Muscles already sore, Gohan touched down onto the oversized blanket. Sweat dripped off his chin. The air here was now much hotter; clouds were nowhere to be seen thanks to their sparring session, and the blazing sun wasn't going to cool for another few hours. The moisturizing lotion did help, somewhat.
18 was sitting under the parasol, hugging her knees. She balled tighter as he sat in front of her, saying, "You're dreaming if you think I'm going to masturbate in front of you."
"That's what the technique is called? Masturbate? Sounds like a vegetable."
She quietly chortled. "Forget about it."
"Spread your legs." He nudged her foot.
She looked away, at a palm tree.
"Do it," he said in a lower voice. "Or are you going back on your word?
Her eyes closed. She sucked on her inner cheek, her toes curling.
"What's the big deal? I put on a show for you. Now it's your turn." He caressed her knee. "Spread your legs, sex slave."
She said under her breath, "I can't believe I'm doing this." Finally, her balled-up position unfurled. Her blush had diffused downward, her neck and chest now also rosy. Her breasts were perkier than ever. Her knees parted, but once more she covered her crotch, with both palms this time, defiantly hiding his rightful prize.
He shuffled closer, breathed in her chocolate fragrance. "That doesn't look like the technique."
She squirmed, "Stop this."
"Start masturba—"
A voice, Dende's voice, echoed in his skull: Gohan, can you hear me?
Twisting around, he blurted, "Dende?" He had let down his mental guard during his transformation. Damn.
Dende asked urgently, why did you release your energy? I don't see anyone except you and—
I'm just training with her, doing a special meditation. Sorry if I made the ground shake. If that's all, then please leave us be and stop looking—
Gohan, something very bad is happening. People are getting hurt. Come to the lookout. We need you.
At least they had calmed down about his taboo wish. I felt it earlier. It doesn't seem that bad.
Eighty-seven villages were attacked last night.
Eighty-seven! Gohan had guessed two, three, maybe five villages involved in the gang ritual, but eighty-seven? That was at least ten thousand people, more than the student population at Orange Star High. This really was starting to look quite bad. Maybe not a weird gang ritual.
Gohan asked, Anyone dead?
Dende's phantom voice was grave: Eight men who tried to fight. A stronger man was able to hold off long enough just long enough for Tien.
Questions rapidly ran through Gohan's head, How much worse do you think this could get? Why didn't you tell me earlier? Were you watching last night? Were you asleep? Does this have something to Buu?
It might be Buu's doing. Please come to the lookout. We'll explain all we know when everyone's here.
Gohan cast out his sense westward. Elevated energy signatures were speeding toward the Lookout from around the globe. Krillin, Yamcha, Tien, Piccolo, and even Vegeta, who was undoubtedly eager for a battle. This was like the Cell Games all over again, and the adventurous, battle-thirsty part of Gohan was as eager as Vegeta, perhaps more so. What a rush!
Gohan stood up, snatched his folded pajamas. "We'll continue this later. We're going to the Lookout."
From behind, she asked, "Why? Can't you speak telepathically?" She snatched her bikini top next to his foot.
"Everyone's meeting. This might be bad."
"Who is meeting?"
"Oh, the guys you saw in the Cell Games footage—Earth's strongest fighters on the side of good and justice, if you want to call us that." He simpered, joking, "The Goku Force."
She didn't laugh. "Is this about Majin Buu?"
"Maybe. If it does, do you want to sit this out?" He did up his shirt's top button and looked at her.
She pulled up her track pants, tied its strings. Her eyes were neutral. "Gohan, although you may be sexually depraved, do you think I'm going to stand idly by while you run into danger? After I let you have one of my wishes? I have to make sure my investment doesn't die on me. We're in this together now." She wore her backpack over one shoulder, apparently leaving the blanket and parasol.
"Your… Your investment?"
"What, do want me to call you my master? Although I suppose boyfriend is fine since that's how you introduced me to your family." She smiled confidently, affectionately.
So did he. "Alright, then. Ready to go meet everyone again?"
"Ready."
His golden, electric aura crackled. Ignoring fatigue, he took off but not before her arms wrapped around his chest. Of course, she needed a little help for the time being. He padded her with a safe cocoon of his energy, feeding her body with extra just in case. No accidents.
While he flew across the Eastern Ocean, the world elongated into a distorted tunnel of darkening blue and white hues, the sun falling to the west horizon faster than he had ever seen. Within five minutes, he was already approaching the western coastline and then soaring over mountain ranges. And when he neared Dende's Lookout, the sun broke over the opposite horizon.
He swerved upward in a practiced arc, passed Korin's home, and glided to a stop at the Lookout's rim. The place was exactly as he remembered: white tiles and rows of skinny trees before a temple with domed, yellow roofs. The air was thin, but breathing wasn't any more difficult, courtesy of the magic here.
As Gohan floated down and his aura receded, his body unexpectedly was heavier than before the flight. Feeling light-headed and woozy, he palmed his knees, out of breath, out of shape. The transformation was taking a far greater toll than he had thought. He let go of his hold on Super Saiyan Two, reverting to base Super Saiyan. How embarrassing.
18 rubbed his back. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, fine."
"Gohan!" Dende called from the other side, his shoes tapping and scuffing. He was taller by a couple inches since the last visit. He ran past Piccolo, who was standing by a tree with arms crossed, then past Mr Popo, who was watering plants. Dende asked, "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
"Hey, Dende, Mr Popo, Piccolo. Nice to you see you again. I'm just a bit out of shape, don't worry."
"Oh, is that all? I'll heal you."
Piccolo gruffly said, "Leave him be." He walked with a rigid posture, his white cape rippling behind him. "Well, Gohan, what do you have to say for yourself?"
"Sorry, I haven't trained in years. I've been busy with my studies, catching up on tons of missed schoolwork, and you know how my mom is with my educa—"
"Not that!" he roared. "I'm talking about your wish! Eternal youth! Tell me you didn't go through with it!"
Gohan swallowed. "Well…"
Dende's gaze fell.
"Yes," 18 said, "his wish was granted. What's the problem?"
"What's the problem?!" Piccolo's fist shook. "Your spirit and body have been permanently altered! This can never be undone, even if you die and are wished back! Stop and think about what your life is going to be like now! You will outlive all your friends and family! And that's not mentioning the precedence you've now set! You are supposed to be the Earth's strongest warrior whom people look up to! You were supposed to be a symbol of hope and justice! You were supposed to walk in your father's footsteps, Gohan! What were you thinking?! Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP!"
Gohan had forgotten how over-the-top Piccolo could be. "Yeesh, I can hear you, relax. I have thought about it. I'll just go into hiding every other decade, and people don't look up to me; they don't even know who I am apart from you guys. I'm not their champion; the title belongs to Hercule Satan."
That only further enraged Piccolo. Veins popped on his forehead. "You're insane! This thing you Humans call love is utter madness! This is insanity! Wake up!"
"My goodness," 18 said. "You didn't give this speech to me."
"Your case is entirely different," Piccolo said coldly. "What was done to you was not your choice. Neither was it wished for using the dragon balls."
She slightly frowned. "Why does it matter if the balls were involved?"
"Their very existence is a gift from the highest of gods, only to be used by peaceful civilizations in the times of dire need to right grievous wrongs. They are not for selfish desires, otherwise they might as well be reduced to stone and thrown to the oceans' depths. We Namekians have been charged to uphold this sacred privilege. What has taken place today is a disgrace. I'm deeply disappointed in you, Gohan."
Those words cut like icy swords. But Gohan held firm: "You don't understand, Piccolo. 18 needs a life partner as much as I do. It's in our biology. This a sacrifice I'm willing to make for her. It's not all selfish."
"Arrrhhhhhhh!" Piccolo screamed. "You both are—"
Vegeta, in brand new Saiyan armor, landed a few yards away. Today, his permanent scowl was exaggerated. He was also in Super Saiyan. "Why have you called me here? Speak."
"Please be patient," Dende said. "Tien and the others will be here soon."
"Fine."
Soon turned out to be within thirty seconds, but the incoming energy signature's texture was similar to Vegeta's; hardy and abrasive although more mellow. A young boy with ear-length purple hair flew over the Lookout's rim. Six-year-old Trunks. He was also in Saiyan armor, except his had stylish shoulder guards and the undergarment was a darker blue. He dropped to his bottom, panting heavily.
Vegeta said, "You're late, Trunks. Maybe you should stay home. With your current speed and strength, you'd only get in the way."
"I'll do better, Dad."
"Sure you will." A lot of doubt there.
Gohan stepped toward them. "Aww, come on, Vegeta. Don't be so hard on him."
Vegeta glared. "How I train my son is none of your business, Freeza."
"Uh, what? Did I hear you right? I'm Gohan."
"Oh, I'm mistaken. I didn't see you beneath your newfound eternal youth."
Gohan's balance was tested. "You know about that?"
"Of course I do. It's all I've been hearing all morning. Even Bulma's father refused to shut up, going on and on about the science of it. The real question is why you didn't include me or anyone else in your wish."
Suddenly Piccolo's concern about precedence had a lot more weight. Gohan scratched his chin, unable to find retort. The best was, "I don't think Shenron can grant it to multiple people with one wish."
"Sure," Vegeta said sardonically. "Next you're going to tell me it's impossible to become stronger than a Super Saiyan. You were training just then. Don't pretend you weren't."
"It's not like that, Vegeta, I swear. I just wasn't thinking about you, that's all. And yeah, I was training."
"About time. You've lost far too much of your power."
Trunks suddenly stood and asked, "Is it really true, Gohan? Are you going be young and live forever?"
"Yes, Son," Vegeta said. "Concentrate on his energy."
Trunks closed his eyes, then frowned petulantly. "I can't feel anything different."
Piccolo said, "The change is very subtle, but it is unmistakably there. His energy is quieter like he has spent decades meditating."
Nodding, Dende meekly said, "Two wishes were made; the dragon balls can't be used for another year." He sighed. "Gohan, my species isn't like yours. I can't relate or judge what you're going through. I hope you don't regret this one day, but if anyone deserves a wish like that, it would be you." He tried to smile.
"Thanks, Dende," Gohan said.
"Thank you," 18 added.
Silence then fell on the Lookout while everyone waited for the four stragglers, Tien and Chiaotzu in the lead, Krillin and Yamcha some distance away. Hopefully their reaction wasn't going to be as dramatic. Cold wind in his hair, Gohan stared over the edge and counted sheep and cattle on surrounding farmlands. He was up to seven dozen sheep when a group of familiar energy signatures grabbed his attention.
Mother and Goten were among them. Bulma too. So was Granpa Ox King.
18 asked, "What's wrong?"
"My mom's coming."
"Should I hide?" Her tone was amused.
"If you want."
She didn't hide, instead standing closer and taking his hand. She whispered at his ear, "You have a lot of explaining to do, Master."
His shoulders slumped. A worried churn in his gut refused to settle, and he briefly considered hiding among the sheep.