Author's Note: Previous chapter was edited for typos and grammar, and a small detail was revised in the prologue. It takes place a week before chapter 1 instead of the day before. Quinella's review convinced me it was a bit too sudden of a shift.

West City had changed since Gohan's last visit: roads were far more congested, a whole block of skyscrapers were under construction, and the general look and feel had a dirty undertone. Chaotic. Crowds of students were meandering about at West City University, tens of thousands. Compared to 18's secret lagoon, this was suddenly a lot less appealing. Suffocating, even.

But Capsule Corporation's campus hadn't changed. The lush green fields and cream-colored dome buildings were welcoming as ever—a home away from home.

Vegeta's suppressed energy was floating high above the campus, a highly abrasive energy. "Is he still here?" he gruffed.

"Who?" Gohan was only eighty-percent sure of who.

"Lord Beerus. Who else?"

"He said he was leaving, but he didn't say if he was leaving Earth."

Vegeta grunted neutrally. "Tell me what happened. You couldn't have fought him."

"Well… He was polite and kind of goofy. He asked if I knew of Majin Buu, which I don't, and then he asked me to get him the world's finest silk pillow."

Vegeta's reaction to the words silk pillow was bizarre and out of place for him: "He what?! Tell me you didn't mess this up!"

Gohan held up defensive palms. "Vegeta, relax. I got him an extra large one. He liked it." That wasn't the exact truth, but his budding relationship with 18 was private information, thank you very much.

"What were his exact words?" Vegeta's expression hardened.

"I think he said…" Gohan put on his best impressed of Beerus' gravelly voice, "So be it, I find your gift satisfactory, but if you deceived me, there will be consequences." Gohan cleared his throat. "He was just joking about the last part, so relax."

Vegeta scowled off into the distance for a moment. "What brand?"

"Huh?"

"I said what brand was the pillow?!" Vegeta was acting as though this were life or death.

"Uh, maybe Carrol? Or was it Carla?" Gohan's fingers clicked. "Carrie! It was a plain white pillow with golden floral patterns embossed on the edges."

Vegeta's fist balled. "Imbecile! Santel is far superior. All you need to do is compare their store reviews."

"Whoah, whoah, whoah." Gohan floated backward. "What's gotten into you? Do you know who Lord Beerus is? Is he a Kai?"

Vegeta's nose wrinkled. "I've been preparing for this moment since I was a child, and now Kakarot's spawn of all people is representing the Saiyan race. It's a farce."

"Yeah…" Gohan knew best to not take Vegeta's pride too seriously. "But who is Lord Beerus? He's a Kai, right?"

"Ask the Namekian."

"I did, but Piccolo—"

"Not him. The other one, Dende."

Gohan's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Dende doesn't want me to know? Are you sure you're not confusing Piccolo with him?"

Vegeta nodded. "What kind of fool do you take me for? Dende, the shorter Namekian holding an old staff, specifically asked me not to tell anyone on Earth, especially not you. He called in a favor of the time he healed me on Namek."

"But why?"

Vegeta avoided eye contact. He spat, "Ask him yourself." He hadn't been this grim since the Cell Games.

Gohan's whole demeanor adjusted. In a deeper voice, he stated, "This is about Majin Buu. Is he really that powerful?"

"We can't be sure, but if Lord Beerus is involved, then we should expect a tough battle to the death." Vegeta harshly glared at Gohan. "Time for clowning around is over. You're weaker than you were when you fought Cell. Did you transform just to fly faster?! You've become an embarrassment, boy! Why are you even here?!" He grew angrier by the word. He was definitely ready for a fight.

Gohan confidently smirked. "I am training. I'm going to stay transformed for at least three months, everyday from dawn to midnight. I'm here to pick up a package for Goten."

Vegeta's energy suddenly magnified fifty fold. Wind stormed around him, and with an unstrained grunt, his golden aura flared. "Then I will stay transformed for at least six months, dawn to midnight. I doubt you'd last even two. Now get out of my sight." He gave a final mean glare, then flew off into the campus.

Leave it to Vegeta to turn this into a competition, Gohan thought. And truth be told, it was good to have someone push him in his training; it wouldn't be proper training otherwise. Father had clearly understood this. So did Vegeta.

This was just like the old days. Five years ago.

Gohan found Bulma's breezy energy signature inside her laboratory. The room was messier than usual, very uncharacteristic of her. Electronic parts were littered all over benches and the floor. There had been a liquid spill, nothing caustic or poisonous, only water. The white lights were extremely bright.

Bulma was working on a pod of sorts; it looked familiar. Her light-blue hair was messy and tied back in a bun. Black oil was all over her damp overalls. "Oh, hey Gohan," she said in an upbeat tone. "Did you dye your hair again? Does Chi-Chi approve?"

"What? No, I'm training. You know this is the Super Saiyan transfor—"

"I was joking. You need to work on your sense of humor if you want to fit in at school. By the way, Goten's package is on the table next to the sink." Joking during a time like this. It didn't appear as though she knew about Beerus and Buu.

"Haha, I was joking too," he tried, stepping over loose screws on the ground, careful not to knock anything over. "So what are you working on?"

"You don't recognize it? This is my prototype healing chamber similar to the ones on Freeza's ship. We can sell it to hospitals." We as in Capsule Corporation.

Gohan beamed at her. "Bulma, that's a brilliant idea! How did you come up with it?"

"Hmph. It was Vegeta's suggestion."

"His idea? Really?"

Bulma took a deep breath. "He's obsessed on Trunks becoming the youngest Super Saiyan in history, and you know how close Goten and Trunks are. I've had to take the boys all the way to Dende's Lookout three times now for healing. Korin wouldn't give me sensu beans for something—in his words—so trivial, that jerk."

The mention of Dende brought Buu back to the forefront of Gohan's attention. "Sounds like Vegeta," he nervously chuckled. "How are they taking it? Have they broken through yet?" Even for a split second, it would be impressive.

"What do you think? Trunks is a six-year-old boy. Goten is five."

Gohan took that as a no, but he didn't want to put them down. "I was nine when I first transformed."

"Well, you had Goku to train you, and you know Vegeta is no Goku. Vegeta can be so impatient sometimes."

Very true. Gohan inwardly nodded. "I'll give the little guys some pointers."

"I'd like that, but you'd have to run it past Vegeta first. He doesn't like people interfering with his training methods, unless you want to train Goten yourself?"

Yes, that was Vegeta through and through. All pride, no compromise. "Uh, I'm kind of busy," Gohan mumbled.

"Oh right. How are you doing at school? Met any girls you like? I know, you already have your first schoolyard crush, don't you?"

18's sexy body flashed before Gohan's eyes—her eighteen-year-old body. She was no schoolgirl. The inappropriate nature of their relationship was suddenly very apparent. He almost choked. "No, no, it's not like that. I haven't been accepted yet, and term isn't starting until next week."

Fortunately, Bulma didn't notice anything awry: "Oh. Chi-Chi made it sound like you already got in."

"Yeah… Mom's pretty excited about this."

"I imagine. Every parent wants their children to enroll at Hercule City, including me," Bulma said sarcastically, then said in earnest, "The chances of out of zone enrollment will be quite low. What if you don't get in, Gohan?"

No one had mentioned this before. Gohan blinked in confusion. "What counts as in zone?"

"It should be within the official city bounds." Bulma looked at him in a motherly way. "If you need, I can loan you money for an apartment there."

Gohan was close to declining, then the naughty part of his brain began piecing together a dastardly plan, and that plan grew naughtier by the heartbeat until it got the point where Bulma's offer wasn't needed for now. He calmly said, "Thanks for the offer, Bulma. I'll keep it in mind if they decline me."

She nodded, saying, "They likely will, to be honest. Have any apartments in mind?" She had always been overly chatty. Working alone in this lab all day must be lonely.

"I flew over the city earlier. I saw some nice ones by the lake." He bit his tongue. That may already be saying too much.

She hummed it over. "I've seen them. They're very expensive. Hercule's summer penthouse is there." She said Hercule's name with exaggerated scorn. "And Android 18 lives there too. I wonder how she's doing." She spoke 18's name with distrust. Why?

Gohan decided to not pry, keeping an innocent expression. "18? He's the one with black hair, right?" All this lying was beginning to weigh down on him. A guilty knot in his gut tightened.

"No, she's the blonde you punched out of Cell. You should stay away from her, Gohan. She broke Krillin's heart, after everything he did for her, and you're far too young for her anyway. Did you know Krillin could've deactivated her but chose not to at the last second? The nerve of that broad. She thinks because she has the looks, she can strut around acting like the Queen of the world demanding this and that as if we're all her subjects. Just thinking about her makes me want to slap her a new one!"

And that was the cue to leave. "Yeah, that really sucks." Gohan grabbed the cardboard package and floated out of the lab. "Seeya, Bulma. Give Trunks my best, and good luck with the healing pod."

"Seeya, Gohan, thanks," she sighed.

The flight all the way back to East District was a quick one thanks to Super Saiyan speed, unsurprisingly; however, a familiar earthy energy signature at the adobe took Gohan off guard. Piccolo was inside. So were Goten and Mother. No one seemed hurt, and Piccolo wasn't known for social visits.

Gohan tentatively inserted his house key. The door hinge squeaked loudly, and young Goten called, "Gohan, we're in the dining room! Piccolo's here."

"Coming." Gohan's voice was flat. He tried to walk casually, but he couldn't force his slippers to scuff on the floorboards. The dining room door was half-open, total silence within. They were waiting for him.

Piccolo was standing in the corner, stoic as always, while Mother looked angry and concerned. She rushed to Gohan, her tense hands on his shoulders. "Gohan, I told you not to transform in public. People will think you're an uneducated hooligan who dyes his hair blond. And why do you need to transform? You need to focus on your studies, not any of this fighting nonsense." She teared up. "You're just a fourteen-year-old boy. You're not the world's savior. For goodness sake, you almost died five years ago. You—"

"That's enough." Piccolo's deep voice echoed. "There may be danger approaching Earth, and the fact is, Gohan is our strongest fighter. The world needs him."

Mother redirected her anger at Piccolo. "He's a fourteen-year-old boy! You can't—"

"Millions of lives may be on the line, many whom can't been wished back from the afterlife again. This is more important than some professorship! Gohan is one of this world's guardians, and he will be prepared." Piccolo breathed deeply through his nose, then said more gently, "This is what Goku would've wanted."

Mother collapsed into a chair, and Goten looked down on his half-eaten bowl of rice. The silence drew out for minutes until Gohan said, "I can still attend school, Mom. I'm going to stay in Super Saiyan for as long as possible, so they won't think my hair's dyed. I can do more intensive training at night. How does that sound? Mom? Piccolo?"

"You know my answer," Mother said. "You focus on your studies. If you have to be involved in this dangerous mess, then I can't stop you." She stood, her fists shaking. The door slammed in her wake.

Piccolo said, "Your training is up to you. You are old enough now." He opened the window and flew out.

Gohan watched him disappear through the trees as Goten pulled on his sleeve and said, "You smell like coconuts and chocolate. Is it because you're a Super Saiyan?"

His cheeks reddened. "No, I went to a bakery earlier."

"Aww, can I come next time?"

Gohan wanted to shout, no! "We'll see." He ruffled Goten's hair.

Next to the fruit bowl, that same Women's Weekly issue sat on a pile of magazines. Gohan jotted a mental reminder to swipe it later—for bed-time reading material, of course.