But Can You Go Back Once You Know?

Chapter Nineteen – But Can You Go Back Once You Know?

No, but you can go forward. And so, Gohan does just that.

Gohan awakes in a ditch, sore, very sore, and wearing the tattered, filthy clothing he'd left his apartment in just before everything went to shit. He lies, spread eagle, from within an inverted dome of dirt. Brown on grey surrounds him –a world away from the dreamland he'd just come from. It caves around him, sloping in slops of mud and clay from the weather; weather which beats down onto him mercilessly.

Staring up, he watches in a kind of daze as the heavens unleashes everything it has.

Where am I now?

Where ever it is, Gohan knows it's very much real just because everything hurts like hell. Pain shoots down his arm, the one Goku had used to channel the energy, throbbing dully as though he'd just served three days at the gym. It takes a lot from him as he tries to sit up, using stray weeds as leverage as he pulls. Puddles of water swallow his groove as he manages to hoist himself.

His knees buckle instantly and he slops against the mud. They tingle with pins and needles.

Fuck.

Drumming down on his back, the rain relentlessly urges him to meld with the grime below. Looking up, Gohan tries to see through the thick sheets of downfall. It's nearly impossible. The only thing he can make out is the collection of skeletal buildings reflecting shimmers of light, winking from exposed metal.

They seem like a good place to escape the rain, at least.

With legs of lead, Gohan takes each step slowly. There's little point shielding himself. He's soaked to the bone, and the mud tries to suction him down as he goes, making moving nearly unbearable.

Finally, he manages to make it. Clangs ring out from under the shelter, only slightly louder than Gohan's panting. His body cries. Sleep, it begs, sleep. He rests a head back, leaning against a steel pillar.

Hair whips across his cheek, gluing there as he tries to make sense of the location.

Jesus. That rain.

Most structures face him with a wet sheen, but some don't. Dusty, charcoal-coloured pieces instead sulk in their dourness. Their shine is lost to their injuries… their burns.

Gohan pivots. More black. Stains creep up decayed walls, smudges conceal lost colour. Something must have happened here, he realises. He then notices the emaciated collection of buildings go on for a while, further beyond where the rain allows him to see.

It's the scene of a burnt out fire.

His head lifts.

"Squire."

The framework jigsaws together awkwardly, but the harder Gohan looks the more he recognizes. Fragments of crystal-like metal wink at him as he passes a selection of beams. They're wet to the touch as he glides his fingers over them, walking, or limping, rather, down a puddle-riddled corridor. The roof is barely intact. Holes litter between tired tiles, inviting the torrent of rain inside and to cascade over debris.

The trickling is loud, but acts as a mere whisper compared to the sloshing of Gohan's muddy trainers. Squelchy echoes converse throughout the vacant, dead building, following as he tours the ruins.

The evidence of the fire is everywhere. Residue stains his fingers dark.

He really made a mess here.

Gohan continues on, weirdly entranced with the expedition. He should be looking for a way out, a way back to his father, but he doesn't feel done here. His legs take him further. Soon, he spots the wreckage of Laboratory Three. The block print of its name is barely legible against the soot, but Gohan knows the layout well enough. He grew up here.

But it's not his home.

The round house in the mountain… My room got the best view of the evening sun.

That... that was my home.

Quickly enough, the memory turns to ash; any semblance of joy just as fast to leave him too, because he remembers. Laboratory Three.

This is the last place he saw the doctor.

His breath becomes bated, trapped, and he enters. The steps creak under each step.

The fire certainly has left its mark. Darkness chases what was once white paint right up to the ceiling, looking like it exploded once it got there. Grimly, Gohan tries to ignore metres of police tape, also seared, hanging down from the window from the first floor.

His gaze falls on the blackened space between the mechanic's office and main hallway.

Here… This is where I last saw you.

"Doctor," Gohan greets with a smile, trying not to sound too exhausted.

Doctor Mort turns and watches him approach, lazily, before turning back to the scrap of paper in hand.

"Doctor, I'm glad to catch you."

The scrutiny can be heard in the doctor's voice, deep and disapproving. "…You're leaving?"

He spares a quick look at his side bag before lowering it down from his shoulder. "I can stay, if needed."

I wonder what would have happened if I had stayed?

His mouth runs dry. The empty space, hollow even with the memory of the doctor, stares back at him with superiority, with presence. It hurts to look.

Water drips from his hair. He feels it hit the back of his hand as he reaches up.

"Doctor," he says to the space. His voice is raspy, and so he coughs because Doctor Mort had always hated it when Gohan had a frog stuck in his throat. "Doctor, I…"

Drip. Drip.

Gohan looks up, noticing the leak. Stray droplets strike his nose.

His gaze falls back down to the space. A cough leaves him, and he scratches the back of his head. The hand stills.

"I'm going now… I just wanted to say…"

Lips pull thin.

Gohan, the world will offer new doors for Squire to walk through.

I wanted you to walk with me… once upon a time ago.

He braces himself.

"I loved you a lot." His eyes close because it sounds ridiculous to him. "I did. Do. I don't know."

Only the echo of trickling rain responds.

Gohan sighs. "And… I know it was never reciprocated, and –and that hurts. I think it's going to hurt for a long time." The dryness is hard to swallow against. "I… I wanted that to change. I wanted to be smarter, helpful, more useful… but… I don't think it was ever going to be enough."

The empty space can't disagree there.

He splutters, amused. "I would have followed you through any door though, Doctor. I would have followed you to the end of the Earth. I almost did."

Drip.

"I'm going now… and I don't plan on coming back."

Gohan waits, as if the ghost really will answer him back, but really, even if the doctor was here he doubts he would have gotten much more from him.

He grits his teeth, takes one last look around the desolation, and then leaves.

For good.

Goku…

The weather is still horrendous as he makes the short walk to his apartment. His joints ache, especially from his arm, but he manages the journey. Tackling the stairs up into the complex is another test, and he's panting by the time he reaches his door.

Having no key is not a problem for Gohan. He's always kept a spare in the soil of the hanging basket next door. It sports a very happy-looking set of flowers, light pink. Strange, he thinks as he plunges his fingers in, they'd been dead before he left. Nevertheless, he finds the key and turns it in the lock.

The door opens.

The apartment is bare.

What.

The furniture had never been his but even that's gone. His books, his clothes –even his shitty collection of gacha has disappeared. Gohan enters and closes the door behind him. It echoes. The place must be completely empty.

Where's my stuff?

He tries the light.

"You even took the fucking light bulbs?"

Shit.

He slides against the wall, and rests his face against cold, sodden hands.

There'd been a burner phone somewhere amongst all his crap. He could have tried calling Capsule Corporation or something –he'd had Bulma Brief's personal number for crying out loud. What the hell kind of luck is this. He's only been gone for…

His brows furrow, and he turns to look outside.

It's fairly dark, maybe just coming into early evening. What time had it been when his dad had taken Gohan to where The Cell Games had been? It'd been around dusk, right? Maybe later. Gohan remembers that it'd been near enough night.

God, what's he going to do now? Capsule Corporation is all the way over in West City, and that's the only place Gohan can think of heading to. He has no idea how to get to the house in the mountains, no way to contact anyone, and not even a zeni to his name.

His head thumps against the plaster.

"Where now?"

Lawson's has a sale on hotdogs today apparently. There's a big promotional sign outside the store, also victim to the weather. Rain has made it come unstuck from the brickwork, making it flap about helplessly against the yellow glow of the shop front. Night is descending –which means a new shift would have just about started.

Gohan pushes the door open, barely hearing the chiming of that same, annoying tune. He brings in half of the street's rainfall in with him.

"Welcome, welcome!" calls a voice from behind the counter.

Thank God.

He passes the shelves of candy, stomach growling, drawing ever closer to the till. Water drips behind him in his steps, splashing onto an ironically placed wet floor sign. God, he's soaked.

He then lumbers forward, emerging behind a wall of manga and dirty magazines. The idiot working the counter doesn't even look up. His nose is buried deep in his phone, and he's wearing a leery kind of smile. It's dirty to look at.

"Working hard as usual," Gohan finally says, weary.

The phone drops.

A pause of thick silence commences.

"Holy fuck."

Gohan startles. "Len-"

Yet the moron's over the counter, dragging discounted pez dispensers and mints as he goes. A rack of sunglasses goes flying. And then, Len's ridiculous gorilla arms are around Gohan's shoulders. His hulking form presses Gohan down, squashing against the exhausted teenager's nose brutishly.

"You fuckin' idiot!" he growls, squeezing Gohan breathless. "You absolute—argh." A hard kiss is forced upon soaked hair. "I've been so fucking worried."

Gohan balks. Hugging him, Len doesn't speak for a good moment, and so Gohan brings a hand up to give an awkward pat. It's quick to evolve into manic tapping.

"L—mmph, Len!"

He pulls back, but doesn't let go –as if Gohan would just up and dart off again. He feels Len's fingertips dagger into his arms. "I thought you were dead. They told me you weren't, but –but, fuck. Here; you're fucking here. You look like shit but you're here."

"Who told you I wasn't—Len, who've you been speaking to?"

His arms drop down from the surprise of the question. "The police. You've been in their custody, right?"

Wrong.

"What?"

"You've… you've been under police protection." Len's brows rise. His mouth opens and closes slowly, comparable to a dim fish's. "Right? Right? You've been in hiding."

Then there's the chime of the door opening. Len's fast on the response.

"We're closed!"

A burly man, bearded and angry, stands in the doorway and points a soppy umbrella at them. "Seven until late!"

"Not today!"

"The lights are on!"

Len clicks his tongue. "I said we're shut!"

"I need my smokes!"

"Get the fuck out, old man!"

And for good measure Len throws an abused pez dispenser at him. The man, understandably horrified, stumbles, clambers against the door handle, and then falls back out against the rain. Len locks it behind him and dims the light.

Gohan shakes his head at the display. "How do you have a job?"

Len lowers a blind. "Fuckin' the manager." Another drops next to it, and then he turns to face Gohan, uncharacteristically serious. "I want to know everything."

A hitch catches in Gohan's chest. What can he say?

He then turns his attention up, looking at the CCTV in its nest of cobwebs.

Len laughs and helps himself to a carton of cigarettes from the shelf behind. "Don't worry about the cameras. They haven't worked in years. Here, have a smoke."

Gohan catches the stick gracelessly, and then the lighter after Len lights his own up. The cigarette twirls around between his fingers, somehow not looking as appealing as usual. His stomach churns, audibly apparently because Len then throws a bag of Cheetos at him.

"You won't believe me," Gohan snorts, tearing open the bag before proceeding shove about six of the puffs into his mouth at once. "Mmmff-pass… mmmff me a Coke."

Len does, and then gives him a long, hard look. Smoke steams from his nose. "Food over cigarettes? What kind of CIA torturing have they put you through?"

Gohan downs one can, and then a second. Good God, he's famished. The Cheetos are devoured just as quick.

"Gohan," Len complains as Gohan next busies himself with the discount chocolate selection.

"You don't understand this hunger," he replies, "I sure as hell don't. If you touch those KitKats I'll eat your hands too, I swear to God. Drop them."

Len shakes his head in disbelief before doing as told. He watches the carnage unfold, puffing away.

Gohan does eventually pause, turning to regard his friend, candy in hand. "I… I'm sorry for… last time. I shouldn't have… well… I… I was a dick, and wasn't in the right place in my head."

Len guffaws. "Jesus Christ. Did Gohan Squire just apologize? Really, just what kind of mind control, crazy shit did they do to you?"

He shoots the idiot a pointed look.

More smoke dances between them, and then Len snorts, turning to look away. "You know I'm sorry. I messaged you as much."

Stubborn bastard, but Gohan supposes that's the pot calling the kettle black.

He's ready for that cigarette now. Wiping cheesy fingers against his drenched pants, he snorts. "CIA won't have shit on what I'm about to tell you."

Len takes a seat on the counter and flourishes a gesture for Gohan to continue.

Instead, Gohan puts the cigarette between his lips, and then proceeds to light it. Without the lighter. The little flame burns from his index finger, Len's impossibly wide eyes still glued to it long after Gohan's taken the first drag of his cigarette.

"Shit, that's good," Gohan comments, taking a moment to appreciate the stick.

"What the fuck was that? Gohan, what the fuck was that?"

A torrent of grey courses through his nostrils.

"I think I know what happened to that vending machine at school…"

The rain continues beating down hard as Gohan relays his tale, bullet-pointing and cutting down some of the more emotional details. Len is his friend, but he doesn't feel like oversharing. Some of it is personal; some is hard to talk about.

"You killed Videl Satan," Len breathes, and then repeats it over and over for good measure.

Gohan stumps out his third smoke after the story is done. "They wished her back though. She told me they were doing it. Maybe she's back now, I don't know."

"Yeah, she came back to school last month."

He jostles, hands splaying across the counter. "What? What do you mean last month?"

"Gohan, it's April."

His jaw drops. Two months. He's been gone for two months. But… but how is that possible? The fire… that had only been yesterday, maybe the day before? Jesus.

He palms his temples, groaning. "Fuuuck."

"You've been missing for nearly nine weeks," Len says, twisting that dagger ever deeper. "They've made a Netflix documentary about you and everything."

"Shut up."

Len laughs. It's short, more like a bark. He helps himself to his own stolen can of Coke. "Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ."

Gohan nods, but still feeling equally as shocked with this latest revelation. "Nine weeks? I… Len, this all happened like yesterday to me."

"Don't ask me how this all works. You're the weirdo alien!"

"I'm not an…" He breathes out, disturbed. "Oh my God, I'm an alien."

"Calm down, E.T. We'll figure this out."

Gohan throws a balled up KitKat wrapper at him. "It's not fucking funny. I'm still processing. I… I need to find Goku-"

"-your dad," Len supplies, something cheeky in his eyes. He leans back, and Gohan just wants to punch him all over again. "It's okay, you can say it."

The tops of his cheeks feel warmer, and he stutters. "Y-yes. Him." Len makes an amused noise, one that makes him want to bury his head forever and ever. Instead, he continues, "but I don't know how to find him. His place is somewhere in the mountains, and I can't sense him. My powers aren't exactly reliable."

"Can't you, I don't know, fire blasts of energy into the sky?"

"Don't be stupid. I don't want to alert the military, or worse; the press."

"At least the police aren't still after you. According to the news, you're not a wanted criminal anymore. I imagine Capsule Corps. probably hushed that up for you."

"Mm… yeah, that's something, I sup- Ah!" Gohan's eyes widen. "Ah! Ah, your phone! Give me your phone –I'll call them, I'll call Capsule Corporation!"

Len needs to scour the floor for it as it'd been lost in the earlier commotion, "it's nearly seven at night. I doubt you'll get far. Here –don't make the crack on the screen worse."

Gohan has to look for the number online. There's about six different numbers he can call. He browses, grumbling, but then ultimately choosws the Public Relations hotline just because he knows anything important should be relayed to Bulma herself. He calls it, and proceeds to talk to the bot on the other end, punching in numbers when required, and then finally requesting to talk to a human.

"It's ringing," he tells Len.

"Good Evening, Capsule Corporation Public Relations Advisor Lulu speaking, how can I help you?"

"Yeah, hi, I have important information for Bulma Briefs, it's imperative she gets this message."

The advisor sounds unsure on the other end. "And what is this regarding, sir?"

"Tell her Gohan Squire needs to meet with her urgently. Tell her to send a jetcopter to Satan City, West District."

"Gohan… Squire?"

"Yes, that's me. Look, is she available? Can you put me through? Tell her I'm trying to contact Goku."

"You're Gohan Squire?"

He grits his teeth. "Yes."

There's a pause. "Look, kid, I don't know what kind of prank you're trying to pull here but it's not funny."

"I am Gohan Squire!"

"Yeah, and I'm a teapot. Stop wasting my time and sort out your priorities, you little punk."

And then the phone goes dead.

He seethes in response, "yeah, well, at least my name doesn't sound like a fucking poodle's!"

Then, Gohan throws the phone back at his friend, disgusted. Len catches it, and proceeds to shove a Cheeto into his mouth. He snorts. "Well, that went as well as expected."

Still angry, Gohan whirls his head around. "And what do you suggest, big brains?"

"Just go there."

"With what money? You gonna' spot me a few hundred thousand zeni to hire a jetcopter?"

Len raps his fingers against the counter, piercing Gohan with a steady, serious look unbefitting his face. It looks like he's about to speak, but then stops himself, and then tries to again. "You could drive."

Gohan threads his fingers through damp locks of black. "To West City? That'd take five hours, probably six. And in this rain? Who knows how long."

"You could do it quicker. You're good behind the wheel. You used to test run new Squire vehicles."

He did, and even the doctor wouldn't complain about his driving. The teenager knows he's pretty good and could quite possibly make the journey to West City under normal circumstances. But, he's unsure, tired… the rain is too harsh.

Gohan folds his arms, not entirely persuaded. "And in what car?"

Len smirks.

"They hate me enough as it is," Gohan says, somewhere between a disbelieving laugh and gasp of horror, "they're going to kill me, and then you."

Len pats the hood of the old Mustang, his parents' pride and joy.

It's completely dark now. The sky is a blanket of black and grey, still crying down heavily against the metal roof of the garage outside Len's modest home. It sings a moody metallic melody.

"We need to get you your Disney ending," he tells, fondly stroking the metal. "You've driven one of these before, right?"

"Not in my wildest dreams."

"Ah well, you're a fast learner. Get in. Here. The keys."

Gohan catches them, and then turns the leather-studded key clockwise. The beast growls to life. There's a moment of silent appreciation from the both of them.

They don't make them like they used to.

"Ooh, listen to her purr," Len coos. "I'm not even allowed to look at her, you know? Dad said he'd hang me from the ceiling fan by my balls if he ever caught me getting any ideas."

Gohan snorts a laugh, leaning back against the plush seat. "Your dad scares the shit out of me."

Len leans over the door, chuckling, "yeah, well, I'm pretty sure you can take him now."

They both laugh, albeit a bit awkwardly. A stretch of silence follows.

Running his hands up and down the steering wheel, Gohan rolls his tongue around his mouth, unsure of what to say. It kind of hits him. Despite all of the bullshit to come from the wish, there are still silver linings. Len's a really fucking good friend. If he didn't have this idiot then he'd still be really lost. He'd probably still be stuck in that swampy, burnt-out graveyard, the one that was once Squire.

Len smiles down at him.

"You best get going," he says, finally pulling away. "You've got quite a journey ahead of you."

Gohan grabs his arm. Len freezes, appearing surprised.

"I, uh," Gohan releases his friend, staring between him and the suddenly fascinating gear stick. Resolve eventually finds him. "I just… You're a good friend. Thanks…"

Len pauses, balking, and then cracks out a laugh. "It's no problem. Anything for the saviour of the world, am I right?"

Gohan slams the door shut, frowning. "Going now."

Len laughs and laughs as Gohan reverses the car out of the garage. Gohan pulls up alongside the property and sticks up his finger, shouting, "fighting Cell is child's play compared to what your dad's going to do to you!"

Then he drives off, enjoying having smacked that amused expression right off of that idiot's face. In turn, Gohan grins, and turns on the radio before putting the car into second gear and pulling onto the main road.

"-and that was' You Don't Know Me' by Ben Folds. Alright, and as promised for the eight o'clock show, tonight on Radio Satan we've got a special guest in the studio. You've probably heard of the one and only… Mr Satan! I know, folks, amazing, right? He's here to retell the famous story of how he brought down Cell! Everyone, please welcome our wonderful hero!"

Gohan snorts good-naturedly as the station plays 'For He's a Jolly-Good Fellow'. He then indicates right and turns onto the highway, speed picking up.

"Hey everyone, it's mighty fine to be here tonight! Thanks for being so accomdatin'"

"How are you doing, Mr Satan?"

"All is good, 'just been real busy. That time of year is coming up so we've got a lot of planning to do!"

"Of course, the eighth year anniversary party is coming next month. The guest list is looking HOT by the way. 'Can't wait to hear more about it. First, how was your holiday with little, or should I say, not-so-little Videl?"

"It was great. Our daddy-daughter retreat in the mountains was amazin'. I taught her all my greatest moves. You folks at homes know the ones! Hyahh! Hyuh!"

"Hah-hah! Yeah, but we missed seeing you both about the city. You're back at your dojos now, and Videl's back at school right? 'Heard she's stopped the crime fighting."

"Yeah, Videl's taking a break from fighting to focus on her schoolwork. It's important, kids! Remember, the brain is a muscle too! Eat your breakfast!"

"Hah-hah! You tell them, Mr Satan! Okay, moving on to the juicy stuff. Let's start from the beginning, tell me about what you were doing the night just before The Cell Games."

"Well-"

Okay, that's enough of that. He turns to the next station.

"—here's a classic all you golden oldies will remember, let's rock here on Orange Rock FM."

Gohan puts his hands at ten and two, focusing on the distorted view before him. The rain comes down thick and hard, but determination will lead him forward. The car roars, and he takes off down the wet, shining highway at speed.

The first few hours were easy, yet his energy is wearing thin. The hypnotizing motion of the windscreen wipers has now started to lull Gohan into a state of drowsiness. After being asleep, or whatever the hell it was, for two months, one would think he'd have the energy to do a simple drive.

Except, really, it isn't that simple. That road, wet and slippery, is easy to skid against, and whilst Gohan can appreciate the beauty of a Mustang, he really wishes he had one of the modern Squire cars at his disposal.

Cccgrrrr….

And there's that. The engine has been making that sound on and off for the last forty minutes.

"C'mon, you beautiful hunk of steel," he praises as he squeezes the steering wheel with forced affection, "you've fucking got this."

Something in Gohan's gut tells him that she probably hasn't. He stopped for fuel only a couple miles ago (paid for by the courteous one ten-thousand zeni note he found in the glove compartment, it's fine, he'll pay them back). With her drinking fuel like a dehydrated horse, he had been quick to realise that electric cars are definitely the future.

"It's fine," he tells himself, "I'll make it."

Dad…

I'm coming…

The highway is quiet, almost empty, and so Gohan's managed to creep up to decently high speeds between speed cameras. Of course, he's not an idiot. High speeds and wet conditions don't mix, and whilst Gohan is a decent driver, he isn't a professional by any means. There's been an awkward skid here and there, too.

"Oh shit," he breathes upon noticing flashing amber lights above. There's a large sign attached.

ACCIDENT
PLEASE WAIT FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTION

"No!" He beeps his horn as the car pulls to a standstill behind a barrier. It's as if his own thought just jinxed him. "Where am I supposed to go now?"

Only the squeaking of the windscreen wipers sound in reply. He looks over his shoulder; no-one else is around. Only he and this other idiot who crashed seemed to be stupid enough to drive in this shit show weather on a fucking Tuesday night.

"Fuck it."

And against any ounce of common sense, Gohan performs a U-turn right there and then on one of the (usually) busiest highways in the country. God, he hopes there are no cameras around here. He cuts into the opposing lane, hoping to find another route. It's particularly hard as he's now driving directly into the rain's path.

Eventually, he's rewarded with an option. A long winded curve of tarmac winds up into the darkness, stretching far beyond the brightness of the highway. The sign, swinging about in the weather reads;

MOUNTAIN PASS

Oh. Oh no. That's a bad idea.

He hums, slapping the steering wheel and glancing over his shoulder at the non-existent traffic behind him. Gritting his teeth, he swallows a breath around them.

"Okay." And so, he turns on what's probably going to be the worst idea he's ever had. His high beams are already on, but they don't do much against the density of the trees and foliage swallowing the road. Each corner is more dimly lit than the one previous.

The old girl grumbles over some of the potholes, making Gohan manoeuvre her practically blind. There are a few nasty-sounding crunches too; they make him cringe each time. And still, the rain falls mercilessly.

The road is bendy and cruel, leaving little room for error and tasking Gohan with skills he's never developed as a driver. He's only sixteen, and without a legal license. Never before has he taken cars out into challenging, unkempt areas such as these. And then there are the drops. Every so often, Gohan would turn a corner to find himself looking down and over a very steep edge. It makes his stomach churn.

Yet, it's the forests to his right that hold the most mystery, the most risk of an accident; a wayward deer, maybe, or perhaps a falling tree. Shadows behind the thick droplets dance in the Mustang's lights. They morph into wicked shapes with long fingers, reaching for Gohan as he whisks past.

It's haunting, like something from a horror movie.

The radio long since crackled out, receiving little to no signal. Gohan is alone.

The clock reads 00:07.

He swallows, wishing he brought a pack of smokes along with him for the ride.

It's another forty minutes' drive until the car hollers out another gut-wrenching cry.

This better not be her fucking swan song.

She drags forward, coughing, and Gohan groans.

"Don't you dare."

She doesn't, but Gohan knows it's only time until the Mustang gives out. A particularly deep groove in the road has him jump, swearing, as he steers right, swerving and only just narrowly avoiding a tree. God, these roads…

The rain on the metal of the car screams at him, telling him to stop, to take a break, but Gohan doesn't want to. He wants to get to Capsule Corporation. Never before has he wanted something so fucking much.

The car pulls back again, feeling a sudden burst of weight. Gohan just grunts, sick of her cries for attention, and drives on as if nothing happened.

A muffle next sounds out. Gohan hears it, and hits a palm against the radio. Fucking wonderful, is that broken too?

There's another noise. Gohan strikes it another time. It sounds once more, but this time he glances away from the radio, and around the car. He looks up in his rear-view mirror, horrified when sees a set of crisp blue eyes staring back.

"Gohan."

"Fuck!"

It takes all every ounce of self-control not to steer the Mustang left in a panic, off the cliff and into the unknown. His heart thumps wildly, breath catching in his throat. Jesus. Fuck.

"Calm yourself," says the intruder.

Gohan recognizes him straight away. He wants to close his eyes, but can't. The road is thin here, tight against the rocks and trees and far too unexposed to stop safely.

"Earth is safe," Gohan says quickly, eye flittering between the slippery road and shadowed being. "The towers are gone. Squire is dead. I'm not going to hurt anyone now."

"And how can I know that?" comes Acciperé's smooth voice, no longer in the back seat but now in the seat residing beside Gohan's. The kai's knees barely fit.

Heart in throat, the teenager splutters. "I-I remember! The wish! I remember the wish, and Cell, and my parents. I understand now!"

"But your power is still unstable."

The car swerves.

"Shit," Gohan panics. "It's not," he lies. Because, really, it probably is unstable, Gohan has no idea how to control it. "I didn't kill the universe or whatever, it's here. We're all alive."

"Thanks to Goku Son."

"So what?" he questions hotly, trying to keep his eyes on the road. Rain thrashes hard. "He helped me. He'll help me again."

Acciperé is just as fast on the reply. "And if he can't? Maybe he's dead. Did you not think of that?"

Gohan feels sick. No. His father is not dead.

"Perhaps he absorbed so much energy into his weak mortal body that it killed him. Why has he not sought you out yet? Why are you the one to seek him?"

"Shut up!" Gohan snaps. "My dad is the strongest person in this shithole world! That wouldn't have killed him!"

"He's dead, Gohan Son."

"Liar!"

"He is," Acciperé easily insists, soft and quiet in tone. "You killed him back at the fire. Do you not remember?"

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes," he says simply. "You did."

The car jolts. "Shut up!"

"Are you sure?"

Gohan breathes, ragged. His memories are blurred, static in some areas. His worlds have collided, and he doesn't know what belongs where anymore. Still, he searches. He concentrates. It hurts, everything hurts.

Stab.

"I love you, Gohan."

A scream; Gohan's.

An explosion.

Hot, white pain.

A scream, this time; not Gohan's.

Blue, then white, and then finally… black.

Stab. Stab.

He feels warm trickling down from his nose. Giving his lap a quick look, he notices the small pool of darkened blood. His chest constricts, and he's suddenly hot. The jumper is tight against his skin. It strangles him.

"N-no," Gohan argues. Surely, he didn't do it again. He didn't kill his father again. "I d-didn't."

"I tried to warn him," Acciperé off-hands, blue, graceful fingers trailing down the window fame and onto the dashboard. "He didn't listen, and now… he is dead."

The Mustang pulls left, and then right. "He's… he's alive, be quiet!"

"You are driving to nowhere, Gohan. The only place you have to be is oblivion."

The road blurs. Rainfall screeches at him. It can't be true. His dad is alive. The steering wheel feels uncomfortably light in his hands, as though a nudge really would take him down to the depths of infinity.

A choked cry leaves him. "Why are you doing this? Why don't you just kill me?"

Acciperé hums. It's a cruel sound, distant and cold. "I need you to understand this, before I take you to the next plane, I want you to make peace with this destiny, with the fact that your power controls you, and that you can't possibly hope to be more than the monster you have proved yourself to be."

Gohan breathes one long hard breath, winding himself in the process. Anguish, he coughs out a sob. The road is little more than shades of blacks and blues now.

"You do not have a right to be here, Gohan Son."

"I…I…"

"At least be respectable this once. Give me your life, allow existence this one mercy."

Did… I… Dad… Are you?

Did I kill you?

"Your father's life is but one stepping stone to the next. Your power hungers for more."

I…don't know what to do… did I…?

"Your worth is in that you destroy."

I… can't remember. I can't think!

"Give me your soul. I can help you. You are overthinking this."

Overthinking…

You always do that.

You've always been kind'a sensitive, haven't you?

You… I know you.

Dad…

He breaks hard. The car jolts forward harshly, seatbelt snapping at his chest. Acciperé doesn't move even a millimetre, stationary in both body and expression.

"You're messing with my head," Gohan then says. He turns his entire body, unclipping his seatbelt and facing the kai with deep, protruding lines running down his forehead. Ache riots in his body. "You're… you're doing this on purpose!"

Acciperé tilts his chin down, hair curling under neatly. "You do not deserve to live. You being here only brings harm."

Think, he instructs himself. Don't react. Breathe.

"No," he says, "you're wrong. The world is safe. Earth is fine… My dad… he's fine too, right? You're lying."

Breathe, Gohan. That's it.

"And if he's not? If you killed him?"

Gohan steadies his gaze, hardens it.

I won't run away again.

"I'll wish him back."

Acciperé's reply is on the tongue. "And if he doesn't want to be wished back?"

His eyes squeeze shut. He remembers the pain, fresh, burning like the fire –burning as though he's nine again, and he's hearing that his daddy doesn't want to come back for the first time. The rejection sears like coal to the skin.

Tragic, his lips part. "Then… I'll… continue to live."

Acciperé smiles.

"Do just that."

That's when the road beneath them crumbles. The Mustang falls, and Gohan with it.

Oblivion.

Once upon a time, there'd been a very sad little boy. His dad had just died, and he'd blamed himself even though the weight of it shouldn't have been his to bare. Because of this weight, that little boy became self-destructive and did something reckless and so unlike him. Using divine power, the little boy turned his back on his loved ones and wished himself free, but instead of freedom, he gained isolation.

The End.

...What a shit story, Gohan thinks, lying under the Mustang's weight.

Shards of class circle him, fragments of metal mixed in between. There's a good chance there's a boulder on top of him, too, but he can't see anyway. It's dark, wet, and, annoyingly, the rain hasn't even paused for the dramatics.

The audacity.

He swallows the lump in his throat. It's dry, painful.

"I'm not even going to look at a dragon ball after this."

The debris is easy to crawl out from under, probably because his half alien skin is made from diamond essence or something. There's not even a hint of an injury on him. Once away from the wreckage, he looks up, concerned when he can't even see any semblance of a road that was once above him.

"Jesus…"

And then he turns around.

His breath is stolen.

Lights twinkle back at him. They glow, flickering wetly in the downpour.

"West City…"

He gurgles out a giggle as rain slips down his face and into his wide, grinning mouth. Laughing and laughing, he throws up his hands.

"Mother fucking West City!"

It's glorious. Rain showers him, cleaning him, as he breathes in full gulps of fresh air. His chest bounces, and he can't quite contain the excitement. He's nearly there. Capsule Corporation can he be spotted by its blue, shining tower. Gohan sees it. It's right there.

It's right… there…

On the other side of all these mountains…

And… he's on the tallest one...

His arms drop.

How the hell do I get there?

He has no car, sorry about that, Len. Hopefully his parents will give him either mercy or a nice funeral. There are no other drivers, especially up here, because they have good sense not to take dangerous roads in the middle of a Red Warning downpour of rain. And the chance of Gohan managing to make the walk in less than a day is practically zero.

Knees wobbly, he sits on his already soaked bottom.

"Teleporting would be really great around about now."

His ki doesn't agree apparently, for he stays there on the filthy ground.

"Yeah, great. Nice one. Thanks a bunch."

Gohan runs his hands through matted, dripping hair, turning up to the clouds and hating them with all his might. Grey mocks him, offering a low grumble of thunder. Really, he has to laugh. His luck truly is awful. He tilts his head, and snorts, smiling wryly at how quick everything went from zero to ten to zero again.

He pulls himself to his feet, sighing, exasperated. God, he's tired.

The once beautiful view starts to appear unreal. It's an oil painting of something out of reach. Splashes of colour blur and sharpen.

The blue of the Capsule Corporation tower shines brightest of all.

I need to get there. I can't give up yet.

The light calls out to him.

Dad… What would you do?

Gohan looks down at the drop, willing his eyes ti focus. Rubble crumbles and falls into the darkness below.

Ah.

It comes to him -Gohan knows what he must do.

Capsule Corporation...

He walks backwards, trainers cracking broken glass from the crash. Crunching and hushing rainfall blends together, the rest of the world is silent.

You're there.

Continuing backwards, he only stops when the back of his heel grazes the fallen wing mirror.

I'm coming home.

And then he sprints, his aim true. Gohan runs forward and fast with determined speed.

The birds from his bright, beautiful memory flash through his mind. They had been soaring, wild in the ocean of sky blue. It's always blue. Why is everything always blue?

He smiles because they had been free.

Gohan's going to be free too.

His trainer pushes off from the tip of the mountain's edge, rubble falling in its wake. Another step is taken mid-air, rain slathering his form as the world crawls into slow motion.

Silence befalls his reality. Only the sky exists now.

His eyes close.

Live.

Gohan's life is in his own hands now. Whether he falls or succeeds, that's down to him. No-one else can do this for him now. Dad isn't here to save him this time. If Gohan wants to get home then he needs to do it himself.

Warm breath beats against his lips, his fingers twitch, his heart beats.

He feels ever micro movement… he even feels his energy, hot and passionate, melt from his body. It catches him, cradles him, sings its sweet, warming siren of life to him.

It becomes him.

His eyes open slowly. Gohan's not scared. There's no need to be scared.

He's free like a bird.

He flies.

Gohan hovers above trees and roads and whatever else should put the fear of life into him, but it feels oddly natural. This is easier than riding a bike. It's like there shouldn't have ever been anything beneath his feet to begin with.

Gohan was born to do this.

It feels good, he realises. His energy is good. The once molten ki that struck to kill now warms him. There's something wholesome about it, soothing maybe. For the first time as Gohan Squire, using his energy doesn't feel dirty. Instead, it feels like coming home after being away for a very, very long time.

Gohan could cry, but the sky is doing enough of that for the both of them.

He stops to take it all in, hovering in this new makeshift wonderland of lights and rain, the darkness a canvas he can carve his own emotions into.

A smile cracks, and he turns his attention to the blue tower in the distance. It's time to go home.

Flying forwards and controlling the ki turns out to be different to simply just hovering there. In other words, it's much, much harder. Each rein of energy has to be pulled in accordance to which direction Gohan wants to take. Similar to controlling a puppet, he has to steer himself forward whilst also manifesting the energy to take him the distance.

It's tiring, especially considering how wiped he is already. And annoyingly, Gohan knows he should be able to do it. It should be easier than walking. He must have done it a million times growing up.

Yet here he is… failing upwards… literally.

He grits his teeth, pressing forwards. Lights dazzle below him, car high beams trailing to and away in their little world beneath him. Honking can be heard now that he's away from the greenery of the mountain roads. Even though it's late, city people seem not to care about being liberal with their horns, and Gohan can hear them even when he's long past the highway sections.

The tower draws closer. He's nearly there. The Capsule Corporation name along the side of it is visible now.

Yes.

And then another growl of thunder happens, this time ground-shaking and booming.

It spooks him. His concentration breaks, and Gohan feels himself losing control. One foot slips, and then the other, and soon, Gohan starts to tumble out of the air's fleeting touch.

"F-fu-"

He spirals fast, diving forward in a dedicated path, but tilted south. Like a torpedo, he rotates, coursing with manic energy as he propels onwards and without any control. Gohan's sure he spots a crack of lightning on his journey. It lights the sky a shock of white as he soars past like West City's personal shooting star.

Sparks of ki piston from, hissing like blue embers.

Shi-

Black and blue spreads into green and that's enough to tell Gohan that he's about crash. He braces himself, panicked.

BOOM!

Finally, he collides with the earth. The impact feels cataclysmic. It's wet, sucking him in, engulfing him like an offering with a roar so loud that it puts the thunder to shame.

It takes a second for Gohan to realise that he's still in one piece.

"Ow…"

He cracks an eye open. Above him is the blue against black and white; the tower.

"Holy shit. I made it," he mumbles, deadpan. "I made it to Capsule Corps."

A shaky hand is thrown up in celebration. "Woo."

It smacks down against the mud, slapping a splash of brown against his sodden skin. Pellets to the face, the downpour strikes hard and steals him of his bearings, making Gohan even dizzier than he already is as he sinks further into the bog. A cough leaves him as his limbs throb.

He wants to move, yet there's a dull agony coursing up and down his entire body. Soreness has him cemented to the ground. Oh, and the mud. The mud had him cemented too.

There's a derisive snort. This is exactly how he started today. What poetic irony.

"Gohan!"

A snarl of thunder rips out again, and then a flash of lightning.

"Gohan!"

It feels good to lie here. He could fall asleep.

"Gohan!"

This time he hears it. His head rises, bringing a plethora of elastic of mud with him. God, it's like glue. Then, a shaky arm wills him up, unsticking him from his gooey prison as he tries to levy himself. He feels weak under the strain and stress of everything. Finally getting here seems to have zapped him of his adrenaline.

The voice calls out again, but it's starting to sound muffled even though Gohan's sure it's drawing closer.

Dad?

Gohan's fading a bit, though, wobbling in his pit.

Dad? That's you, right?

"Gohan!"

He hears it again. It's so close now. On gut instinct, he lifts his hands forward, greedily grabbing up against the rain and darkness. Gohan's drained now, nearly blind from the dirt, but still hungry for the satisfaction of finding Goku.

A hand grabs his own.

Dad.

He knows. His body knows family.

The hand doesn't pull him up; instead, Gohan feels the weight of a body drop against him and pull him into a messy, sloppy embrace. He freezes on reaction. Something feels off.

Two cool hands swipe against his face, soft against his cheek. They clean the mud free from his eyes.

It's not him.

Gohan places a shaky hand over the one sitting against his cheek. He leans into it, quick to choke on a throat full of tears.

"Mother," he croaks. "Mum."

She's crying too, Gohan can tell. The shiny of tear tracks against her skin shines even against the rain. Her tiny body jitters, and her hands shake under his, but she's laughing. It's a relieved kind of laugh as she smears more and more dirt away from his face.

"How they didn't know I have no idea."

Her voice makes him break.

A rush of colour strikes hard, making his head spin. Energy floods him, and sudden sharp and crisp images fly about his mind. Memories, thousands of them, hit home one after the other in crystal clear vision. They're all of her, of his mother.

How could he forget his mother?

The concoction shows her holding him, playing games with him, talking, singing, cooking. She's smiling, scowling, angry, sad –full of life, full of love.

A splutter rasps out as he clings.

How could he do this to her?

"I'm sorry," he has to say, rasping. Those open, warm eyes are worlds away from the hurt he would have put her through. Does she remember? He remembers. A hiccough. "Mum, I'm sorry. I-I…"

He folds into her lap, sobbing hard.

A hand rests on his head, and he cries and cries until a disgusting hoarseness hurts his throat. She soothes him, just like she had when he was little. Gohan remembers it. Even if could remember nothing else, he would remember this. Fingers glide through his hair, pressing and comforting when he needs it most.

They both stay like that for some time, time he doesn't want to end.

Mother. Mother…

I'm so sorry.

His throat constricts.

A surge of warmth then spreads throughout his shoulder, and Gohan registers another person joining them in the dirt. He clasps at the fabric of his mother's dress, concerned.

There's a laugh, and that warmth squeezes his shoulder, clasp steadying.

"You both can't stay out here all night."

His chest beats.

Pang. Pang. Pang.

You lying bastard, Gohan thinks, envisioning the smug face of Acciperé. Something between a laugh and a sob rings out from the teenager. Derisive, it's dark in nature, but really, it's only to mask the intensity of how he really feels. He's flooded, not only by this fucking rain, but also by rapt elation.

Gohan pulls back, sitting up woozily as his mother brushes his hair back and out of his filthy face. There's a long, drawn out moment before he can finally bring himself to face his dad. And then he does it.

Shining bright, Goku's there. His grin is contagious, stupid and impossibly happy, something that would make Gohan scoff on a normal day like the snotty shit he is. This time, however, he can't look away. It's the sun in this storm.

Another rumble of thunder rumbles, and by the time lightning strikes, Gohan has tackled his father down into the sopping clumps of mud.

He looks at the clock. 03:21.

How he's still awake, Gohan has no idea.

"Drink," his mother tells him, forcing hot chocolate into his hands. He forgot how much of a feeder the woman is. She kisses his forehead again and again, preciously like he might disappear if she doesn't do it at every opportunity.

A fluffy towel drapes over his shoulder, smelling of sandalwood and spices, as he is swallowed into the fabric of a plush armchair. Capsule Corporation has never bothered to cut even the smallest expenses, it seems. The shower he just took was like being submerged by a waterfall.

Bulma enters the kitchen, the same one where they'd shared that coffee the last time he saw her, wearing a nightdress, dressing gown and a tight frown.

"You," she says to him, pointing her phone in his direction, "are reckless. If you stayed in Satan City maybe half an hour longer then I would have come and picked you up."

"Len…" Gohan breathes in realization, hands circling the warm cup of hot chocolate. "He called again?"

Bulma's mouth presses thinly. "No, I called after having strong words with one of the advisors in Public Relations."

He snorts into the beverage. A bubble pops.

"You think it's funny but I have been kept busy over the last couple of months with all your drama. Maybe you should come work for me to pay me back."

Aghast, his head whips up. "Absolutely not a ch-"

"Thank you for your help, Bulma. Thank you for calling us and for making this happen," his mother says, hand wrapping around Gohan's upper arm. Whether it's a threat or way to comfort him, Gohan isn't quite sure.

So he closes his mouth.

Bulma smirks, devious. The beast within her senses his weakness. "No problem, Chi-Chi. You're practically family to us, after all."

God, why does it sound so pointed?

Her smirk fades into something warmer. The smile catches the budding crow's feet under her eyes, making them look ever more wholesome. "You've had us all worried, kid."

Gohan stares at her. This is the woman he hated. This is the doctor's enemy, his rival -Gohan's rival by extension.

There's no hesitation when she advances and gives him a fond tap on the cheek.

"Welcome home."

He has no idea how to react.

This is all foreign. He hates it, b-but maybe not really.

He doesn't know.

His cheeks tinge.

"I'm going to bed," she informs next, bringing her hand back and rubbing it over a slightly protruding stomach. "I've had them prepare the North Wing Suite for you and Goku. And Gohan, there's room and a bed waiting should you dare grace us with your presence for longer than an hour."

"Thank-you again, Bulma," says his mother. "Do you want me to check on the boys before I-"

"Oh, no. They're fine. They'll probably want to sleep in tomorrow morning, but won't we all?"

A sigh follows. "Probably not Goku."

"Probably not Vegeta either," Bulma laughs. "Okay, I'm wiped and I've got to address tomorrow's headline about Capsule Corporation's Latest Explosive Experiment tomorrow. Ugh. Oh well, goodnight, you two."

"Er, wait," Gohan calls.

Both sets of eyes turn to him, his mother's gaze, in particular, feels like a dumbbell anchoring him down. A moment of silence rings out, his voice suddenly weak.

The hand pressed against his arm squeezes softly and then pulls away.

"I'm going to take a shower," says his mother, "your father should be about done now, anyway."

There's one more kiss pressed down onto his hair before she leaves the kitchen. The modern emptiness of the space feels large and foreboding, even against the dimness of the corner lamp.

"Yeah?" Bulma questions as she leans against a silver fridge, lips pulling at the corner. Her eyes are bright.

He looks around the room, and then breathes out a deliberate sigh.

"I'm not apologizing to you, too"

"Good, I think we'd die from the heart attack."

He shakes his head, lips twitching.

Bulma's smirk widens into a grin and she goes to speak, but Gohan beats her to it.

"Turns out I figured out what was in those towers," he says. "Would you believe that it was my power inside them all along?"

"Oh, yeah? Really?"

"Really."

"Did you realise this before or after you nearly blew up the planet?"

Gohan pretends to think. "Maybe a bit later than would have been useful."

Bulma chuckles, rubbing her stomach again. "Goku –or your dad, rather- was in pretty bad shape when we found him. Supreme Kai healed him and he was ready to go out and find you right away. That man doesn't know how to take a break."

"He doesn't."

"It was kind'a hard for us all to swallow –the truth, I mean. Like, wow, you were his kid all along."

Gohan breathes out an amused chortle. "Videl said the same thing."

Bulma considers him. "You know, I can definitely see it now that I know. You're a handsome kid when you don't look like you have a piece of shit wedged under your nose."

A hand moves up to cover reddening cheeks. "Goodnight, Bulma."

The woman's a menace. Her laugh is about as obnoxious as she is; it trails out of the kitchen after her in a chaotic echo. God, she's going to be the death of him. Even the joke, the idea, of him working for her makes him shiver. No way. There's not a chance in hell.

Gohan stands, shuffling in a pair of jogging bottoms and a woolly jumper that isn't his as he makes his way over to the large, glass window which overlooks the garden. The rain's still going at it out there. He watches it, wishing he'd thought of asking the devious cow for a cigarette.

"Bulma sounds happy," comes a new voice.

The teenager whisks around. Goku.

His dad is looking a damn-sight cleaner than when he'd last been with him outside. By the time Bulma emerged and forced them inside, both Goku and Gohan had been covered head-to-toe in filth.

"You keep clothes here?" Gohan asks upon spotting the orange and blue gi. It looks fresh.

"You will too. It's easier after training, or fighting. Trust me," he replies, amused, as he approaches the open spot next to Gohan. Together, they look out into the dark shadows of the garden.

The rain had been such a fucking obstacle today. That had been the true villain of this journey, yet Gohan can't help but admire its beauty.

"Mum… she… she doesn't remember, does she?"

His father leans against the window frame, a sad sort of smile gracing his features. "No, she doesn't."

A torrent of air filters through Gohan's nose, and he shakes his head. The smile is returned even though it hurts him to do so.

Goku continues, hitting him right where is hurts, "she's been waiting to meet you."

"I thought she might have remembered –I did, in the moment. How she acted… I thought she did too."

The thunder outside whimpers in agreement.

"Yeah, I think her heart knows even if her mind doesn't. I guess that's a mother's love for you, huh?" His dad admires the white of the lightning strike in the distance, "I mean… you know, I guess a little part of me knew too… right when I first met you."

Gohan turns his head away, unable to look at Goku's earnestly straight in the eye.

"Yeah, well, I thought you were the fluorescent security worker," he lies.

Goku chuckles, and they watch as more lightning forks down over the city. It's a personal lightshow just for them, a special 3AM spectacle in a place where the outside world doesn't exist.

Eventually, Goku breaks the silence.

"How much do you remember?"

"Some. You?"

"Some."

The aroma of freshly watered trees seeps through the open window. It's the scent of spring. Gohan has never minded spring. Flowers and rain are always in abundance, and the cool breeze is embracing. It's the winds of change; a time for growth.

"I really fucked up," he then admits. "I shouldn't have made that stupid, fucking wish."

Rain speckles the window in transparent polka dots. It patterns with a crackly hum. Over that hum, Goku awkwardly chuckles. He scratches the back of his head. "I should probably tell you not to do that, right?"

"Huh? What?"

"Language… or something."

Language… Oh. Oh!

Gohan has to laugh too. "That's what bothers you here? I'm pretty sure I just nearly destroyed the universe or something, but it's that that you want to pull me on?"

"I don't know," his dad confesses, still grinning sheepishly. "From what I remember, you were a really polite kid."

Gohan scoffs.

"You know, I remember you being really, really shy; you wouldn't even come out and say hi to Krillin and the others when I first introduced you."

"I remember that!" Gohan says in a sudden whirl of excitement, clicking his fingers. "It was on a beach."

"Hey, that's right. I think it was the Kame House."

Gohan brings his finger to his lips. "There'd been a turtle."

"Bulma. She'd been there too!"

"Crabs. I remember crabs."

"Master Roshi, he-"

"A cloud-"

"Piccolo came after because…"

"Raditz," they both say at the same time.

There's a moment of quietness. It's still, but not uncomfortable. The air is charged, harbouring the weight of an emotionally mixed history between them.

"It's not going to be easy," Gohan finally says. "I'm not very nice now."

"Neither is Piccolo and Vegeta. You'll be in great company," Goku jokes.

"I'm not going to fight."

"We'll see."

"I won't wear orange."

"We'll get you blue."

"Ugh, not blue."

Goku's arm wraps around his shoulder, and he's brought in for a tight side-hug. Together, they watch as the rain falls. It cleanses all away, washing and preparing for a new day.

Tomorrow will come. Time's arrow marches forward, and one can never go back.

Gohan smiles at himself in the reflection.

I know.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Yeah, and that's the final main chapter. Yep. No, I'm not crying. It's... it's a sudden case of emotional eye juice.
Goddamn, I'm happy to have reached this point. It's been a struggle with some of these chapters. Saying that, this one has been a pleasure to write. It's either longest or second longest after 'Life' but it didn't feel it as I wrote it out. Going through places and hearing from a good few characters in this chapter really made me remember why I've loved doing this story. The world is so fun and accessible. I'm going to miss it!

It's not an entirely happy ending, just because those don't exist. The wish has had some after effects, and they'll continue to be a thorn in Gohan's side for a long while. Still, just because things aren't perfect it doesn't mean the ending isn't good. The epilogue/mypersonalsatisfactionchapter will elaborate on a few of loose ends. A couple of characters weren't covered in this chapter and so I want to address them.

So because this isn't the end end, I'm not gonna pop my party poppers yet. The epilogue will come at some point. I'm not sure if I'll get it done quickly, or if it'll take a while. This chapter was originally planned for 5K (now 10).

Y'know... I keep doing that.

Anyway, yeah. Thanks for all the support and reviews thus far. It means a bloody lot to me.

One more to go! (Even though this is actually the end but not really, but really, yeah.) Stay safe out there.