Gohan stubbornly looked away from the numerous books and assignments his mother had given him for the week. Staring out at the crisp colors of autumn through the condensation glass. He wasn't bored, how could he possibly be with so many things to look after in his father's stead. It was routinely drab at best. He shook the tension in his shoulders and gathered the "Great Explorer" Bag Krillin had gifted him. Plenty of pockets for capsules and tools that superpowers couldn't replace.A journal, a few paperbacks he read almost compulsively to a worn yellow and other more survival-based supplies packed by memory.

He looked at his wristwatch, a half-moon past 12. He could ignore working for an hour to get some fresh air.

With a thick oversize sweater and the book he was currently reading, just in case. He swiftly walked past his mother, simmering a pot. "Bye, mom 'am going outside to play."

" And not going out by yourself to the city, right?" she eyed from the back of her head. Not too strict, not too sweet-sounding, all good sighs with his mother's moods. "Nope, am going to stay on the mountain and if I go to Bulma's, I will let you know first," he replied line for line, a script she wanted to hear every time he left the house on his own accord; ever since Namek. She sighed and faced him, rubbing his shoulders inches below hers "You know I just want you to be safe. The world is strange and unprecedented. Even with all your gifts, it can be dangerous."

"I'll be alright mom, that's what Piccolo and dad taught me to be." A sadder glow passed through her eyes "I know sweetheart, just don't make me and your brother worry when you'll be coming home. You'll be starting school soon." she shot a bitter pin in his chest, but he smiled through it. She kissed him and got back to preparing Goten's lunch.

He welcomed the cold and slipped on his rainboots. Running away from anything else except the woods and their inhabits. He screamed. "I KNOW IT'S MY FAULT!" that bitter pin became a swarm, needle-sharp hornets bumbling against his one had said it aloud to him and a younger him would believe their reassurance. That his father's death was unpreventable. It was hard to discourage his dad from anything involving doing the right thing in his mind. Everything ugly and confusing to Gohan was easy and bright. His father even apologized while Cell counted down his planetary -ending bomb. Somehow in the two years since that goodbye, have morphed into a contradictory rage.

Gohan felt into quieter sobs. "Why can't I make it better?! We've worked so hard to keep things moving on. For me to just let it go, all this isn't helping her!"

There were so many feelings, some that were shells of other emotions he knew. One of them being a wiser call to understand the person who had caused torment in the very beginning.

Vegeta.

He wasn't horrid enough to make his life a hell and seem to treat the team neutrally well. Jokes on the Prince's behalf weren't open to death threats anymore. "He's part of your family, whether you like it or not." He was Bulma's husband, his father's best friend. He fought beside them ever since his arrival on earth.

They just existed in the same room. The Prince only acknowledged him when his presence was necessary. A need to spar to keep them on their toes, pestering every time to go bigger. To go into the ascended state of Super Saiyan regardless of Gohan's anxieties, "You can't run to Daddy or big brat! You need to be competent in all areas. As a royal Saiyan, I refuse to let you waste it!" a particular conversation they had earlier in spring.

"I'll do fine Vegeta, and I'll transform if need be when anything comes around." he curtly explained. That seemed to infuriate him more. "By god, you've convinced yourself of such nonsense! At least do it to get me to become it. But no, the universe had to give such power to someone without an ounce of true Saiyan essence. Even the fucking kiddies show it more."

He wasn't a pushover, and nor was he blind to the fact that the Prince surrounds himself with the strongest and never less than. Nappa seemingly was unaware of that and made an example of.

"Would it be suicidal to tell him I am going to be in middle school, cutting our training even further? Hell, he'll probably say 'Congratulations more nonsense to run around and play to waste more time with." he sneered at the thought and then rubbed the tiredness in his eyes. The slight wetness from tears.

Gohan breathed in the clean air and kept walking, allowing himself to wonder. A shiver spread through him, a prickling of energy that he couldn't place. Too otherworldly…. too ancient to be from an earthling, but not nearly strong enough to be an enemy. It was an aura that spun the not-so-great hectic feelings in his guts to a wave of….. longing of those who are too far to be reached, of stories that couldn't be sent to those in distress, the dread of the iceberg that they couldn't avoid.

He ran between the ash trees and pines, growing thicker and wilder. Instantly he used the little telepathic ability he had to reach the others. "Does any feel this enormous cloud of energy?" Piccolo the nearest, seldomly far from him to a fault "Sorry it's faint, do you see anything?!" Gohan puzzled how this cloud, alive and breathing; Could be faint? He let it guide him uphill into the blurring daylight, a fog that housed wails and cries of creatures he couldn't see; couldn't imagine existing. The aura grew deeper in this hilltop, broken fragments of rock sprouted from the mountain. Like jagged watchmen of warning for those unwelcomed.

"Piccolo, there's not much here, What I am sensing is further in a fog. Tell me when you get closer to me." he transmitted it to radio silence. "Piccolo?" he panicked until a blimp of thought came through

"Gohan, your kinda fizzling out. Yamcha and I are somewhere close. I can't sense the cloud your talking about." The boy pulled out his journal to record such a natural deterrent to their abilities "3:18 Pm followed a bizarre reading in case it was a visiting alien. A natural energy drop off that's like a spirit, further exploration needed into the fog. Why can't Piccolo fully sense the aura? Is it another Saiyan trait? And if it was, why am I not getting a call from Vegeta?" He reached out to Bulma's compound to only hear "Busy Don't interfere welp." in the other's gruff fuck-all tone.

"Well, that theory got blown out of the water," he replied. He should know better this oddity wouldn't interest him. Be like Dad, this is an adventure waiting to happen. Just go in. An inner voice spoke up "That's asking for grief, I should wait with a search party to find out. Being impulsive helps no one." Yes, and waiting around for the adults, adults who rather dismiss you than believe you. They can't sense a giant billboard of energy then maybe only you can. Not everything in the world can be done alone, but you can say the same about working with friends. He was able, they prepared him as prepared could get. The aura ripples as it rises in awareness.

The discussion was over. He ripped out a page of the notebook and wrote to his beloveds, leaving it in a crevice of a tree. A sunny brush of contrasting chrysanthemums and Dahlias nearby that he twisted into his hair. With a touch, he hand-printed his energy into the bark. Another lasting indication he was here.

"Into unknowns." and Son Gohan disappeared into the fog. The wails ceased, and the spirit extinguished themselves, by chance they had been found.

The fog was gone, and he was standing alone. It was blinding and polluted with noise, smells whirling in his head. Mount Paozu's loving warmth that swaddled him with blissful memories and wondrous animals vanished. Bikes speeding by, pigeons cooing on the concrete, children running after each other. A park in the city, 'no this isn't right'. His watch was still. He spread his senses thin till a sharp pain warned him to stop. "Piccolo? Yamcha? Can anyone contact me?" The hum of life was a different song. The massive beacons once around him departed.

Hours of effort later, he settled in the complicity of suburbs. The houses weren't half-moon shaped anywhere, and what progressive city didn't have floating cars? As much as he wanted a cry and panic session in the corner for himself, there be no time for the risk of sundown.

He stretched the burn in his legs on a bench and made another set of notes "I am definitely not on my earth, I would believe in some kind of jump to another planet but a cobble of identifiers say otherwise. They talk in a language I can understand and most necessary living conditions are the same , but I would have used a vehicle or charm to get somewhere so out of date. Trunk's multi- timelines were linear in my lifetime to function ," They boy clenched his legs further into himself, feeling the sweat in his jeans and hair. Listening to a common birdsong, he spoke to the only one who would hear.

"I've spirited away."

In the stillness of sunset, several plans in his mind were listing the facts and the gear he had packed. Imaginary maps of how far a woodland area could be or a police station to tell a cherry-picked story of a runaway so he could be brought in by the state. He told his mother that he knew what to do to survive and he hadn't been born a liar today.

Gohan needed shelter and a source of water above anything else. With renewed energy, he attempted flight. The usual lifting flutter in his gut was weaker, he waterfall'd more power to at least raise himself to a car's height. A static lift-off brought him only a few feet, three more attempts had him floating lower than birds.

Even as a child he could fly faster than this " Mental note to self the drop off bizzarro doorway has affected my power to fly, maybe a lasting side effect or just a waiting game annoyance. Might be better to keep a low profile until then." He chased the rays of sun into a withered gate to a forest a good distance from civilization.

He picked out a sturdy oak and a small creek to be his home base, thankful for his stamina and strength to make steady work with a small hatchet. A tiny tree fort made of logs and bundled branches, a little off in height with the slanted roofing but cozy. Bless all the comments and teasing about his lack of growth. He didn't need a rope, climbing had suited him fine. A fire and all-purpose pot had sterilized the water he greedily gulped. His enormous hunger would soon kick in for something else than protein bars, but the fire and twinkling night reminding him of sleep. It wasn't home, but peaceful enough to the real thing.

He stamped out the flames and checked his bag at his side in order for a quick curled up in a space blanket and the heathered knit, still smelling like his mother and her laundry soap. For the fun of it, he imagined writing a letter to his family telling all about the scientific expedition he had gotten himself into, how well Goten was doing with Trunks, and the apology to his mom that he had left her alone again. To dad to watch over them and bring him back to make sure they're safe. If anyone made the impossible a simple request, it was his father.

"Goodnight, you guys, I'll be home sooner than you know it. Don't cause too much trouble Goten, I know your gonna be a little hellion for a while. Listen to Aunt Bulma when you go to play with trunks. Play nicely with others and practice your arithmetic, don't think I won't end them if they pick on my little brother that includes you too Trunks…."

his quiet ramblings had put him asleep, holding on tighter to the sweater.

The mornings he kept to himself, the minimal hunting choices of rabbits and tiny fish to keep his insides at bay .Taking the foliage that he knew as safe as it came along, exploring and researching the common knowledge of his world. Their time was the 1990s in a country named England, in a town a little ways north of Surrey. In a chain diner, he kept out of the way and efficiently cleaned himself in the bathroom, finger combing soap into the thicking black strands and filth coating his neck. Once he was clean enough not to be in public, he looked at the job wanted signs. Talking to anyone who bothers to care to a child in distress.

He keeps the story light. He was part of a nomadic family, income that comes and goes. The schooling his actual mother had introduced him to would work wonders if anyone asked about his odd hours.

He'll play it straight with the police and government people that his only family had decided they no longer could care for him and had left with no papers for him. A clean slate probably put in a state-run ward, some money in his belongings in case of an escape route.

A plan that was all well and good, if only someone would hire him. "Day one of job hunting, day two tomorrow." a growl came from his stomach. A few days of this would be fine, but a week or longer might be cutting it too close. He using his superhuman talents would only benefit him if there was a better source of nutrition before winter. He strolled through the more picturesque boroughs, almost leaving his tree fort behind. "Maybe I leave this behind? Go to somewhere with deer to eat or more outdoorsy people I can mesh with compared to city life." But that would also mean leaving the doorway he might one-day miss opening. Risks and losses, gains, and winnings. That is adult life in its essence.

Since he had gotten here in the early fall, the nights had minor bite he could will away with some input and output breathing his chi. He left a half-hour to himself to enjoy the colors and life on the strip before he could explode. Night-goers entering bars and shopping centers packed with people. He didn't need a mugging tonight, so he circles back through the richer class neighborhoods.

A block or two was a massive lone house cut off from the repeating homes like a perfect Lego set. Chips in the paint to concrete to fence posts, the exterior a mute shade darker than the warmly lit whites. In front of that house, a burly man with a stature that rivaled his father's and Piccolo's, the frames of muscles pitted against heavy cloth and tendrils of hair. He was galumphing to a parked motorcycle, a jingle-jangle of keys as he moved. Out of all the things he thought were true of this world, the motorcycle lifted off into the sky.

"There are flying cars here!" it was childish and dumb, but there was an ounce of familiar here in the strange embodiment of a motorcycle-riding mountain man Santa Claus; he'll take it.

Gohan ran full gauntlet to flag him down before the giant disappeared. A leap above the roofs got him some grip on the sidecar "EXCUSE ME SIR I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!" he yelled over the rumbling motor. The mountain man let out a curse he didn't quite catch and landed half haphazardly in the road, squeaking his brakes. "Boy! you scared the devils out of me, where did pop in from?!" His manner of speaking was harsher and quick in the accent he had gotten used to. "I am sorry, but I didn't see any other way to get your attention. I can't fly for the time being. I need to know why no one else I've seen use a floating transportation like yours. Is it banned in this county by any chance?" he excitedly asks while studying the flying bike. The man's face was transfixed from confusion to curiosity." No, it's more of a secret product than a public."

He calmed himself and took a step back. "I am sorry if I got my wires crossed, if you have a minute to allow me to more of a nuisance, sir, I like your opinion on the subject of interdimensional doorways?"

The man stroked his beard, settling on a glimmering intrigue in the browns of his eyes "I know very little on dimensional anything outside of carpentry but I do know a couple of folks that might if this doorway we speakin' about seems magical. Out of the ordinary perhaps."

"You might think I'm nuts, sir. It's absolutely magical, a department I am unaware of unless it was a scientific anomaly. Then, in enough time, I could make some equipment to identify it. I am alone out here, Could I possibly tell my story to these friends of yours, or guide me to a conservatory so I can further investigate."

The giant took out a bulky pocket watch "I believe you kid, It's not too late in the night and I am done with my errands. I see no reason not to assist a young lad in his endeavors. I can't in good grace leave you alone." he said in a worried tone.

"Thank you for the concern. Where I live is a half-mile into the woods." 'He seems trustworthy enough and if he's not, I can fight off a woodland Santa Claus without wasting energy.' He carefully sat in the sidecar, accepting the helmet from the giant. " Hold on and please remain in the vehicle at all times for safety." he stuck out his hand, fingers as big as peppermint sticks. "The name's Rubeus Hagrid." the half-breed clasped it, a nimble branch packed with hidden power. "I am Gohan mister, Son Gohan."

Mr. Hagrid chuckled "And I thought the world might be running out of oddities to appear." he started the bike, rising to the air.

That lurch of gravity in his stomach, every time feeling so terrifying and yet freeing. Gohan laughed; glimpsing down to the ant people and their homes. It was swifter than any machine back at home and allowed him the rush of flying until he could perform it on his own again.

Hagrid landed on a smooth dirt road. The lights of the city dotting the horizon, another thing to leave behind. The wooden fencing sticking out from the sprits of grass and weeds " Are we close enough?" Hagrid asks as he kills the motor, Gohan let his senses fan out to the beaten path of trees he'd marked. They'll slowly disappear in a matter of hours and assimilate back into nature."Yes, this is it." 'Thank god I was planning to leave here, anyway. In reality, once I can fly again, I can live anywhere I like.' He re-checked everything he owned, the pre-packed clothes finally showing wear and tear. He sprinted back to Mister Hagrid, who drove back into the sky in a different direction. "How far are we to them?"

The man twists his beard, keeping one hand on the handles "I know a place in London where you can get a real cleaning in and some food, perhaps. My friends are people of high respect and probably shout a storm in bringin' you in so ill-cared for. Then we'll get on a train, will be smooth sailing by then" he said matter factly, looking ahead into the distant arrangement.

'Now is the time to be a little transparent,' " Mister Hagrid, I think for the future you should know my eating habits are a little...overbearing. To be blunt, I can eat a stack of diner plates of food as big as you, standing on top of each other, and then a few more to round it off. Where I come from, it's a family quirk I inherited. I'll try my best to keep my manners in mind." 'I don't want to seem piggish and eat till their supplies are bare to this kind man.' A clap on his shoulders startled him."That's quite alright Gohan, I am well aware of colossal eating affairs. Got it in my family too." his cheerfulness clearing the blush Gohan had in his ears "Are you not completely human too? Not assuming just asking." keeping his vocal squeaks in the wind to a minimum.

"I am and quite proud to be, Giant folk. You?"

"I know little about my father's ancestry, all I can comfortably say at the moment is that there a...in-your-face rambunctious sort. First to start a fight and first to finish at times."

Hagrid gave him a look that spoke of old memories and understanding. Gohan's empathy wanted to reach out to the shared string that was growing with the acquaintance he made. He wanted to chat more about these "friends" to prepare, but the fading adrenaline and hours of walking had him weary. His old trick of warming himself wouldn't work with no walls to separate some draftiness, so he hugged the backpack for some comfort and drifted off. Sometime later, in the mist of consciousness; he could feel a heavy blanket on his back. Warmed up by Hagrid and laced with the scent of pine oils, spices, and traces of alcoholic rum spills. A voice he recalled of Dende came back to him, "You will always find good people, even when it seems hopeless. I am thankful for what you and Krillin did for me and my people. Even though those pirates were stronger, you all fought to put a stop to it." he wiped the wetness on his cheeks, a calmness he couldn't fathom put him to sleep.