"Daddy!"
Gohan didn't know why he bothered. After all, he knew if there was any chance of his father could answer or get to him, he would have already. Their separation was not for lack of trying on either individual's part. Yet, facts were the same. They were separated and he was alone.
It was a horrific and ghastly feeling. Gohan had learned a while ago that while battle produced all kinds of emotions—and not all of them exciting—there was no worse feeling than being utterly and completely alone. The prospect that you could simply die or be lost and no one but the animals would know was not an easy emotion to cope with. Maybe that was why he was so clingy to his father even if he wanted to be seen as mature and grown up and able to contribute.
The sea churned and rolled and Gohan took in a deep inhale as it pulled him under. This was his mind, his ki, his problem. Surely he could figure it out so that he and his father could leave and go home. And didn't he promise to bare his mind, to not put up any barriers, not try to fool himself?
Gohan didn't know what to delve into though. That was the hard part. He wanted to feel better about this baby, he wanted to feel better about his connection to his family but how did you do that? How did you stop emotion or understand emotion when you couldn't even pinpoint where it was coming from?
Gohan considered...his father had approached his distress with the battle against Cell with logic. It took some digging to get around the rationalizations that Gohan had created but ultimately, it had worked. Gohan was not fool enough to believe it was one and done—he'd likely have to remind himself several times until it finally clicked—but seeing for himself what that change in thought could do. It was encouraging.
That left him drifting still though. That was one victory. He needed to get to the root of this. How did one do that? Drift? Ask questions? Think on past experiences?
He was going to have to look at himself.
Closing his eyes, Gohan considered. He was a smart kid and he knew that when he'd found out about the baby, that he was going to be jealous. That was normal. He suspected almost every older sibling was jealous at least in some sense.
But for him...it felt like an attack. Like someone was invading what was only his and should only be his because if they got in deeper, his parents might like them better.
Okay, okay so that was jealousy. But it was...deeper than that. What if he was replaced because the new baby was better?
Better at what?
Everything
The trembling around him made Gohan shiver. But the voice was right. That was his fear. His deep fear. That no matter what he did, he would not match up to someone new. And why would he be able to?
If it wasn't for me, Tien would still be alive.
It hurts, doesn't it?!
Gohan yelped and out of reflex, covered his ears.
But Piccolo's reprimand was in his heart not his ears.
I just froze...
It hurts, doesn't it?
I'm not ready...
Just go home...
Gohan sank, clutching himself into a tight ball. It wasn't the deaths, the violence or any of that which clung to his consciousness. It was Piccolo's dismissal. It was him saying, without words, that he wasn't good enough. He wasn't doing what he was supposed to do.
He never was good enough.
Oh, look at that! A 90! All that studying paid off! But—
That dreaded word.
I know you can do better!
Better. Faster. It was always improvement. Do it better. Do it faster. Make it higher. Make it more impressive.
Better. Better.
Not good enough. Not good enough.
He could see her face. Mom. The way she would smile and her eyes would light up whenever his scores came back. Then how she would look at him.
This is wonderful but I know you can do even better! You just need less distractions! You're my smart boy!
He just wanted to be good enough. Why wasn't he ever good enough? Why wasn't a 90 good enough? Why wasn't trying in his first battle good enough..
The enemy won't give you breaks! The enemy will lie and cheat!
But...you're not the enemy Mr. Piccolo.
Those training days had been hard. Gohan had grown from it; he was grateful for it. But the way it was done...every time he thought he'd achieved something, every time he felt good about how he'd grown...
Well, at least you're not crying anymore.
Great. You can fly. Now learn to dodge and fight in the air.
Don't be a fool. Stop using your eyes. Do you see anyone else struggling?
Gohan wept. He'd buried those pieces of it because he genuinely did care for Piccolo and there were periods when that hard outer shell came down—he'd gotten better at over the years and Piccolo had grown softer. But it still hurt.
The best training he'd had with Piccolo had been the three years before the Androids. Gohan used to think it was because he'd learned Piccolo's training style and while maybe that was part of it, a much deeper piece was his father had been there to buffer the worst of it.
Not the physical hardship. That he had grown accustomed to. He could take a punch and a kick and come back for more. He did so. Frequently.
It was the words.
When he'd been literally crawling on his hands and knees, bleeding and bruised and Piccolo had left with Not strong enough. Not fast enough.
Daddy had always picked him up and nuzzled him like a puppy amid Piccolo's 'you're ruining my hard work with him!' And said "Wow! You did a lot better than yesterday, son!"
Daddy's praise never felt empty. If he hadn't done as well as he could have, he told him. But he also told him when he did do well and when he did improve.
Mom...was learning. Gohan tried to focus on that. She acknowledged that the way she hyper focused hadn't been the best and she was trying. Gohan loved her for that. He could tell it felt weird and awkward and that she had to keep reminding herself but she was trying.
But words already said still stuck.
Be better.
Be stronger.
Be faster.
On Namek, he'd no been strong enough. His power, his reaction time. How many died because if it?
Shoulda been stronger. Shoulda been faster.
When they'd had peace, for a time, when Daddy had been in space. He'd wanted to impress Mom, wanted to make her proud. He'd come just below the cut off mark for a cram school she wanted for him.
Not smart enough. Not good enough.
Everyone he loved. He was always failing them in one way or another though certainly not for lack of trying. But it was never enough. It was never enough.
It would never BE enough.
Mom was changing. Trying to.
Piccolo had tried to soften.
The battles had stopped...for now.
But facts were facts.
Not good enough.
Not strong enough.
Not smart enough.
Not fast enough.
Do better.
Be better.
Better or nothing.
Better or nothing.
Better or nothing.
"Perfect...or nothing."