One thing Gohan absolutely hated from smoking cigarettes was the cough. That damned cough made him sound like he was a sick man. He wasn't to the point of sounding like a dying man but it did sound awful and it felt awful. Wet and rough, he described it as coughing sandpaper.

So, there he was, coughing like there was no tomorrow, his hands on his knees. He hoped no one was listening to him, he had tried so hard to endure it. To keep it in his throat but the cough had been so bad that if he had to hold it in for a second more, he would've passed out. His coughing fit finally seemed to diminish when he coughed phlegm.

Gohan wrinkled his nose in disgust. He wiped the rest of the mess surrounding his lips with his arm and took a big breath. He always felt like he couldn't breathe after a coughing fit. After that, he decided to focus on the target in view. He was in a very fancy neighborhood, exclusive even. Tight security hadn't been much of a problem for Gohan but more like a nuisance.

He knew everything about that man, or at least what he had to know. A suburban married man with a good law career, won countless cases, made a profit and built a name for himself. He was about to get promoted by his boss to a partner in his law firm. And from what he saw, he had been a loving husband and present father. Usually, all of those bastards let a perfect life.

What he could say with confidence, though, was that he did not pity that man. He had made his fortune by looking the other way when his firm represented someone corrupt, hell, he even helped them get clean or at least superficially enough so the law wouldn't catch the criminals, his clients.

He deserved everything that was going his way.

Gohan felt a tingle of excitement and adrenaline which he forced to the pit of his stomach.

There was always that thrill when someone did something wrong. Like when one would steal candy or skip class, he figured. That feeling of excitement at the thought of doing something outside of the rules. This was more or less that, that feeling of utter childishness. Gohan never thought of his job as a pleasant one, once in a while, he felt like shit after completing it-not out of pity for the criminal but more like out of pity for those around him, the collateral damage. But even he couldn't help but feel a little spark of rebellion for what he was about to do.

He didn't feel like this all the time, but this case was an exception. The damn lawyer had become too paranoid after his clients started showing up dead and holed himself in his basement, never leaving it. He even made the purchase of a super expensive alarm system in hopes Gohan wouldn't get to him. That's the reason why Gohan had to wake himself at 3 in the morning to get creative in how to make that criminal pay for his crimes.

He sighed, for Kami's sake, he was supposed to be asleep, and although it was Saturday (because technically, it was around four in the morning), he still had responsibilities outside of school.

Like the dinner that his mother was going to prepare in honor of him entering high school that exact day. She invited Bulma and her family, and Mister Piccolo on account that the rest of the Z-Fighters were dispersed or simply unavailable.

He cringed at the thought of facing Mister Piccolo and Vegeta at the same time. Though he could take care of Vegeta, Mister Piccolo was another subject, he already suspected of him. And Gohan really hated to lie to his master.

Focus, you idiot, the dinner is far away, first get this done and then worry about that.

Right. He cleared his throat as he approached the house, his right hand in his pocket. He felt a bit guilty to have stolen what he held in his hand from Dr. Brief's lab but it was necessary. Now, here was the difficult part; that damned security system was incredibly sensitive and if he made the wrong move, he would get caught. It was designed and produced by Capsule Corps which was the reason Gohan knew what to expect of it.

Still, Bulma's work was something out of this world and he had to be careful.

How did I get to this point?

It was now law that at least once every other night, he wondered where did he go wrong. He knew the answer every time. That stupid accident, the damn accident that changed everything. Gohan had never wanted to become this, a vigilante who had to wake up at ungodly hours to do his job, to kill. The Grand Saiyaman wasn't a vigilante in his eyes, he was a stupid 'hero' that helped the police once in a while and got the criminals together so they could catch them.

He had wanted peace and instead had gotten himself in a mess he knew he could never walk out of.

The security system was sensible to movement, and Gohan was forced to walk slowly and carefully. How he wished his father had taught him his Instant Transmission technique. Or some form of teleportation in which he didn't require to put himself at more risk than the one he already was.

What was the thing his father said?

Power comes in response to a need, not a desire.

Well, I need to get inside the house right now.

He suppressed his ki as low as he could. The security system probably wasn't made to detect ki but one could never risk it with Bulma Briefs. He gave small, slow steps and sweated as he passed by the damned cameras, he hoped no one was looking at them. Gohan was wearing some sports shorts and a shirt with no sleeves or as he called it, his pyjamas. The red headband being the one thing that could stand out.

When he got to the keypad, the one that he had to use that stupid lawyer's eye or fingerprint to enter, he took the thing he had stolen from Dr. Brief's lab and placed it right on it. It was a small circle, which would override the system and let Gohan pass without a problem. Or, at least that's what it was supposed to do, and Gohan cursed himself for making such a leap of faith.

It worked, the keypad gave a small crack and it turned black. Gohan smiled, good. He then grabbed the handle of the gate and turned it. No resistance whatsoever. He chuckled, this would be easier than he thought. He grabbed the small circle and placed it in his pocket again, then he went in and closed the gate. At four in the morning, the lawyer would probably be awake, paranoia did that to you but his family wouldn't.

And if he was careful, then he could keep that like that. Gohan closed his eyes for a second and felt the ki of those around him, they were steady and weak. Asleep.

At the front door, of course, it was going to be locked but that had an easy solution. Gohan took that small card he always kept in his wallet and did what Yamcha taught him when he was thirteen, he wedged it between the lock and the doorframe, then, moved it up and down, side to side, and in a matter of seconds, it unlocked. Sometimes it was easy to forget that before becoming a famous baseball player, Yamcha was a warrior, and before that, he was a bandit.

Hell, sometimes it was easy to forget that Mister Piccolo had once wanted to kill his father and that Vegeta was the sole responsible for genocides of hundreds of planets.

Some 'heroes' we are, huh?

The house was completely dark and silent. And even if its summer had in a way ended, Gohan felt hot and the sweat dripped from his face. He shook it off and followed the ki with the highest power, trying so hard to do it all silently. But with every step he took, he felt the wooden floor crack. Maybe it was his damned paranoiac mind.

After almost hitting a desk and a few other small obstacles, he arrived at the basement's door. He could see the light shining through the small gap under it. How he wished for the Instant Transition! Gohan was skeptical about using the card thing with this door, if the lawyer heard him, Kami knows what he would do. Scream probably. And Gohan would be fucked.

Dad always put two fingers on his forehead.

He tried to. His memory was still intact from the time his father used it in his last moments. His smile, his soft eyes and his gentle tone shone pride. Gohan hated that, how he had said he was proud of him. Proud of how he fought. Was he patronizing him?

He had killed him. And if he had only leaned over, he would've been able to touch him-

He concentrated all of his energy in that specific ki but to no avail, he wasn't moving and the damned weather or thermostat or whatever was going up in temperature and he was sweating through his clothes. Well, if it didn't work all those other times he tried, then why would it work now?

Ah, fuck it. He grabbed the door handle and turned it, it gave a small click as it forcefully unlocked.

"What do I have to say-"

The lawyer, Tao, was on his desk, writing like a mad man. Gohan took a second to take in what was of the basement. There was a bed though it was untouched, a large desk full of papers, dozens of boxes, some kitchen utensils and plates. Tao looked annoyed at first but when he saw Gohan, his mouth shut up immediately and his pen stopped writing, his hands shook violently and his eyes bulged.

Gohan got in and as he closed the door he smiled.

"You're-you're-," Tao stuttered.

"Shut up," Gohan said. "I gotta say though, your paranoia did help you a bit. Helped you stall the inevitable."

The fear-stricken face of Tao changed a bit when he heard Gohan's voice. The teenager always tried to make his voice lower than it actually was just in case someone was listening. And when Tao heard his voice, something sparkled in his eyes. Recognition.

With trembling hands, he pointed at Gohan. "You're him-you're him."

Gohan shrugged as he made his way to the desk. "Oh, so you know who I am? What a great observer you are." Sarcasm dripped all over his words.

"You're-you were there that nigh-night. In apartment 4A."

Gohan prided in the fact he could control his facial expressions perfectly with these kinds of men. Always neutral and impartial with a touch of anger. But his usual confident demeanor fell into pieces and surprise etched on his face.

This was new information.

"How do you know that?"

"You killed-you killed-"

"It was an accident," the words were spat with desperation and justification. Guilty justification. "I didn't mean to-"

Gohan stopped. He didn't need to tell that scumbag his reasons. He wouldn't understand. No one would. His thoughts went again to the headband he wore. Gohan rarely stayed consistent, he hadn't a passion for anything to really commit to it. Except this. This whole stupid vigilante stuff was his passion, one of the few consistencies in his life.

And this corrupt lawyer had been there the day Gohan threw any hope for a normal life out the window.

"It doesn't matter," he finished.

Tao gave a small whimper. "Please don't kill me, I have a wife and sons. I have a family!"

"First of all, shut up because if they wake, I will have no choice but to kill them too. And second of all, do you think I give a shit about that? The victims of your clients had family as well."

Tao looked defeated. Gohan didn't have any pity for him though. The once confident and powerful lawyer had turned into a small and crumbling shadow of a man. And it was his fault.

Gohan's indifference came back, he glanced at the small coffee table that was placed on the right of the desk. There were dirty dishes, some barely eaten, others on the verge of rotting. There were spoons, forks and knives. Gohan picked up the first knife he saw. Tao whimpered again.

"You know, they say justice is blind, I don't think so. I think justice is subjective to the hand that holds it. And right now, I hold it," he motioned to the knife. "As you can see, my sight is perfect."

"You're a cruel person," Tao stuttered. "Cruel man."

"No. I am fair. Unlike what other people think," Fucking great, go ahead and throw an indirect to the girl who doesn't even have any fucking idea of who you truly are. "If I was cruel, I would've bashed your head in your desk like fucking butter."

Without even a small warning, Gohan walked to the desk and brought the knife down, chopping three fingers off from Tao. The second after he put his hand on his mouth, the lawyer was about to scream but instead whimpered. Looking at his fingers and the pool of blood that was flowing freely from his knuckles.

"Shh, you don't want to wake up your family," Gohan whispered. "This is what your clients did to their victims. And what you defended. It's not nice, is it?"

"I can-I can give you money," Tao agonized. "All you want, please."

Gohan chuckled. "You think you're the first one to offer me that? You rich people don't understand that not everything can be bought. Pathetic."

He placed the knife on the coffee table again, careful to remove any kind of blood. Then, he went back to the desk, where Tao was whimpering and silently agonizing over his fingers. Gohan took something from his shorts, a small pill. This too he had stolen from Dr. Brief's lab, and for a while now. But the good doctor always thought he simply miscounted them. Gohan placed it on the desk.

"What's this?" Tao muttered.

"A suicide pill. It contains poison but a poison which will be diluted into your bloodstream and by the time someone performs an autopsy, it will simply say you went into cardiac arrest."

The little color that remained in the lawyer's face left completely. He looked at the pill, pink in color, then at his fingers, and then to Gohan who looked serious but almost, satisfied. Tao shuddered. "Will-will this be painless?"

Gohan chuckled. "Kami, no. It will be agonizing. But it's simply for a few minutes. You get to decide, either you die by your own hand or by mine. And let me tell you, I don't plan on making you agonize for a few minutes."

Tao sighed. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not, you're simply sorry for getting caught. Now, do what you must."

Tao took the pill with his good hand. His fingers trembled and he felt afraid. He didn't want to die. He had so many things to do, he thought of his children and his wife. Would they notice he was dead? Or would it be until his rotting corpse smell that they would know?

The man who was in apartment 4A that night had become a judge, jury but above all, executioner. And Tao's judgement day had come. He looked at the eyes of his executioner and saw no emotion, they were empty and dull of any emotion. He sighed once more. Then he brought the pill to his mouth.

"'A once-famous lawyer turned crazy found dead by apparent suicide in his basement'. That's going to be the headlines. No one will know you were killed, or that you weren't crazy at all. Live the last of your moments knowing your legacy will be built on lies and disgrace, all you worked for has now been destroyed."

Tao coughed. "You're going to Hell, too."

Gohan smiled. "I know, and I have accepted it. You, however, tried to run from it. I don't care if I go to Hell, so, I'll meet ya at King Yemma's reception."

He did pity his family, or better said, his kids. They didn't serve such a father. But they also didn't deserve to grow without a father. Justice was a funny thing, a complex thing. And while people could brand him as cruel or heartless (not that he believed that he was better, well just a bit), it had to be done.

He was there, he existed to make those fuckers pay. Do the job the police were too afraid to do, or too 'good' to do. Bring justice.

As he left the house, he passed by a photo of the two children. They were smiling and laughing, posing in a baseball position with the man who was probably dead by now. Gohan's hands turned into a fist and his shoulder cracked.

He made the grave mistake of thinking of their reactions to their father's death. A knot tied on his stomach. There was always collateral damage. And one day, it would be enough to kill him.

It didn't matter, he already carried guilt, what difference would make these kids?

Two hours of sleep.

That's how much Son Gohan had of sleep.

He arrived at his house around five in the morning, and he had fought back the desire of just falling on his bed but he had smoked and his rules forced him to wash his hair and hide his clothes. Then, he went to sleep.

But now, barely two hours after, he had woken. The sun was setting high in the sky and the morning was peacefully silent. He felt like utter shit. Truly shit. Too exhausted and too dysfunctional to be functional today. But he had promised Goten to visit the dragons today before breakfast, and he would follow through it.

Gohan looked at his brother, sleeping on his bed on the other side of the room. He was asleep with his mouth open and his arms and legs wide open. The kid even slept with passion. Just like dad.

He got up and yawned. He really had to get some sleep someday soon, if not, he risked his mother's questions. And when his mother asked questions, she usually got the truth. Gohan walked towards Goten and nudged him on the shoulder. The seven-year-old didn't budge. Gohan nudged him harder and Goten opened his eyes.

"Mmh?"

"Time to get up, kid."

Goten frowned, he rarely did unless it was for two things: food and sleep. "I don't wanna."

Me neither, squirt.

Gohan smiled, took Goten in his arms and then threw him up and down. The little kid laughed gleefully as his brother threw and caught him.

"Okay! Okay! I'm up! I'm up!" He giggled.

Gohan put him down on his bed. "Good, now, get dressed quietly so, we don't disturb mom's sleep. We'll eat some berries on the way to the dragons."

Goten's face lit, even more, when Gohan mentioned the dragons. Ever since he was little, he had a friend named Icarus, that friend had been Gohan's friend when he was little. And a few months ago, they had learned Icarus had settled down and had babies. Well, eggs, Gohan explained, that would hatch soon. And they did. Though sadly, Goten didn't get to spend much time with them because they were up in the mountains.

But today they would visit them.

He grabbed his gi with fervor and ran to the hallway.

Gohan sighed amusedly. Goten brought something that was truly uncommon in Gohan: genuine innocence. Now, the teen could feel happiness, he prided himself in that he could laugh and smile and be happy but that never stuck around. One way or another, he always went back to that heartache that followed him everywhere.

With his family friends, well, they knew of the horrors of the world. They had seen death, blood and pain. They had felt it and lived it. Innocence was gone and they all knew it. The conversations were optimistic but realistic at the same time, conversations with people as complex as the world they lived in. Yamcha hadn't always been a good person, nor had been Vegeta or Mister Piccolo. And just seven years ago, Gohan had been trained to destroy Krillin's wife.

But with Goten and even Trunks, well, they had heard about the 'heroic' tales but they hadn't experienced it. Hadn't lived and seen it. They were untouched by it. And when Gohan was with them, genuine innocence etched on him. He could forget all his mistakes for a while, all the things he hated of himself, the guilt would ease, and the complex and cruel world he lived in, became simple and merciful. To be able to look at the world in black and white.

He could be who he had been seven years ago. Who he had been nine months ago.

You're-you were there that nigh-night. In apartment 4A.

Yes, I was.

He placed that thought far from his mind and grabbed a new pair of clothes. Gohan tried to not think about that stuff when he was with Goten-well, technically he tried to avoid those thoughts with anyone he had an ounce of respect for, but especially Goten. That kid was so full of life and so happy that Gohan believed he deserved his best self.

What would Goten think if he found out his brother had forced a man to kill himself two hours ago?

Fucking stop thinking about that. It's done and that's all there is.

His eyes trailed off to the floor, and the trunk under his bed. He knelt and pulled it toward him. His mother and Goten didn't know what was there, his mother had, however, realized it was important to her firstborn and left it alone. Goten had some curiosity and would once in a while ask Gohan about it but usually left it alone too. Not that the teenager took it out often, the last time he had opened it was around nine months ago, after that precise night the damned lawyer had mentioned.

There was nothing of real value in that trunk, not that someone would try to rob them, they pretty much lived in the middle of nowhere. There wasn't gold or hidden money, there weren't even the bloodied torture devices that Videl believed the vigilante used.

Gohan opened it, feeling the ki of Goten drinking water outside the house. That kid, he could drink water inside, but no, he wanted to be close to nature-he loved it. His older brother chuckled.

Again, as previously established, there was nothing of value in that trunk.

Well, except sentimental value, he guessed.

His father's gi.

Not the one that he had died with, of course, that one had been taken to the Otherworld with him, but one of them. It was folded with care, the kanji out to see and over it his blue wristbands. The first night without him, Gohan hadn't been able to sleep a wink, his mother was destroyed internally and he could only feel guilt and immense sadness.

The house was the same as it had been the day before, and Gohan couldn't grasp the fact that just twenty-four hours ago, his father had been with them, and now he was gone forever. And it was his fault. That night, Gohan had managed to sneak into his parents' room, his mother was already asleep, cried herself to sleep more like it. It took a lot of effort and ability to open the closet where his father's clothes laid.

It was the first thing his eyes laid upon. And without hesitancy, he took it. It had his smell. His father had never worn cologne, it hurt his sensible smell, and he didn't need to. He had this peculiar smell, one of earth mixed with flowery soap that his mother used to wash them. It was difficult to describe. The first words that came to Gohan's mind were 'home' and 'safety' which was pretty ironic given that his father was rarely home and safety was thrown out the window when he was around.

That night he had hugged that damned gi trying to get himself to sleep. He swore not to cry, his father wouldn't want him to cry. So, he didn't. Instead, he started training, well, more like started obsessing over training. He swore to himself that he would one day be worthy enough to wear his father's gi.

At present time, Gohan was tall enough to wear it and old enough. It would probably fit like a glove. However, he never did. His reasons evolved with time, sometimes he wanted to simply throw the clothes away, hated them and other times he clung to them as if they were his last connection to his dead father. But he never did wear it. He was sure that his mother would have no problem with him doing so, nor the rest of his friends and family. They would probably encourage it.

But he didn't. And probably never would.

And no matter what, I'll always be proud of you.

He closed it. And placed it back in the dark corner under his bed. It was probably sickening that Gohan had to rely on a dead man's words to feel less guilt-stricken. His father, the honorable Goku probably wouldn't be proud of him.

If he ever took a break to think about his family.

"Are you ready, Gohan? Why are you on the floor?"

So, Goten came back.

Gohan looked up and smiled. "Nothing. I was just-," he chuckled. "Come on, squirt, you ready to go?"

"Yeah! I wanna see Icarus' babies. What should we name them?"

His brother got off the floor and placed his hand on his chin with a pensive look. "I dunno. How about we take inspiration from nature? Let's go, we'll eat berries while we think of them."

Goten's childish grin spread across his face. "Alright! Let's go!"

"Coming."

Spending time with Goten was like spending time with innocence and happiness. The sun was just starting to come up, the heat wasn't that bad and the birds were beginning to chirp. Goten called for Flying Nimbus and jumped on it with excitement. Gohan sat down on the cloud in a cross-legged position and brought his little brother to the gap, his crazy hair touching his chest.

Gohan had done that ever since Goten had been old enough to use Nimbus.

Contrary to popular belief, Gohan never gave up on life, he had given up on himself. He had no real purpose (outside of killing criminals), that much was true. But he had a dumb optimism about life, an optimism that rarely found its way to strangers on the street but which could be seen whenever he was with his brother or in nature. There was a beauty to the world, to the trees, the valleys, the animals and flowers of the world.

Of the bee to the big dinosaur. A beauty he loved. It was in those small instances where he believed the world was good. That there was still something positive to it.

A good world where his little brother could be a kid instead of a soldier.

The sun was shining on the trees, the little clouds in the sky were turning a shade of pink, the birds, perhaps confused about the two humans in their skies, looking magnificent. Goten was extending his arms, trying to touch the birds. Gohan chuckled, grabbed his brother by his torso. "You ready?"

Goten nodded. "Yes!"

Gohan smiled and threw him to the airs. Goten laughed and giggled as he attained the clouds, touching them and feeling them melting in his palms. Gohan jumped off Flying Nimbus and as Goten was falling, he grabbed him. He threw him again, this time with a bit more strength so he could get higher. His brother's laughs and joy were enough for Gohan to start laughing as well. "What do you see, squirt?"

"Everything! I see the trees! The mountains!"

Gohan saw a small cloud a few feet away from him. He smirked. He grabbed Goten, already laughing and having the time of his life. "You think you can touch that?" He motioned the cloud.

"Of course!"

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I can, Gohan! Come on!"

Gohan placed Goten to his side and started swaying him, teasing that he would let go but then pulling him back to him, then pushing him forward but still holding unto him. "One," he swayed him again. "Two," he started to put more strength into it. "Three!"

And he let go.

Goten flew off, giving huge laughs while imitating the wings of birds with his arms. He was able to touch the cloud, the water spraying his face, fresh and cold. He began his descent but he didn't worry. Instead, he closed his eyes, extended his arms forward, placed his feet together and felt the breeze caress his face. He loved when Gohan did that. It was the closest thing Goten had to fly.

After a few seconds, he felt the arms of his brother holding him. He opened his eyes and found Gohan's eyes meeting his. "What about a race?" Mischievous fun made its way to his eyes.

"Hell yeah!"

"Who taught you that word?"

"Trunks!"

Gohan's laugh filled the air. Goten thought that Gohan's laugh was one of the best things in the world. It was always filled with joy and a warm feeling always was present in Goten's chest when he laughed. His brother had told him their dad's laugh was even better but Goten doubted it. Gohan's laugh was the best.

Flying Nimbus caught up with them, the cloud as excited as they were. Gohan placed Goten on it and then positioned himself to be parallel to the cloud. "You see that tall tree right there? That's the finish line, ready?"

"Go ahead!"

Without any warning, Gohan set off. Goten was right on his tail. Flying Nimbus soared through the skies, Goten loved the feeling of speed and the breeze touching his face. Gohan was going faster, turning for a second and sticking his tongue out. Goten giggled. "Faster, Flying Nimbus, we can't let Gohan win! Faster!"

The cloud obeyed and shot through the skies. It was right besides Gohan, though he seemed to relax and even too confident for Goten's liking. The tree was getting closer with every second, if they kept the speed, they would be able to surpass Gohan, Goten smiled as he waved his brother, already gaining momentum.

Then, Gohan pushed forward and in a matter of seconds, he had touched the tree.

Goten looked at his brother, already on the grass, giving him a small smile and then winking. Goten jumped out of Flying Nimbus and landed on his feet. "That's not fair! You're too fast!"

"And that's how I won. Now, wanna apple?"

He threw him an apple and Goten bit into it with hunger, however, he made a face as he tasted the apple. "Ew, it's bitter!"

Gohan seemed amused and confused. "What's wrong with that? You ate two bitter apples last time with Trunks."

"Yeah but that was different!"

Ah, little kids. They change their minds faster than any Instant Transmission will.

"I see," Gohan laid on the grass. That small race with Goten had taken what little energy had been gathered in those two hours of sleep out of him. "Just eat it, squirt, and when we get back you'll have breakfast."

"It's bitter."

"Do you wanna wait until we go back to eat? It's just an apple. Close your eyes and pretend is sweet."

And so Goten did exactly that. Then, he laid on his back next to Gohan. His brother had his arms as head support and was looking at the skies. Goten imitated him. He was as fascinated by nature as his brother. One of his first memories was Gohan carrying him while walking through the forests. He had taught him how to be with animals, how to treat them, to look at them as equals.

To protect and love them.

Gohan whistled a tune. Then, he waited a few seconds and the birds up in the air responded with the same tune. He did it again, but with a different tone. The birds answered all the same.

"My turn!"

Goten was still fairly new to whistling but he tried to replicate the tune his older brother did. It sounded rougher and less like an actual tune but the birds repeated it all the same.

"Whenever you're in trouble, whistle this," Gohan showed him a beautiful yet simple tune. "And I'll respond to you with this." The tune was the same, except the tempo and the last note had changed. "I'll come to get ya, always."

Goten started practicing and Gohan got up. He stretched and gave a small yawn. Truth be told, all he wanted was either to go to sleep or smoke a cigarette, but he shook those thoughts out of his head. He cracked his shoulder. "Let's go, squirt. You can practice on the way to Icarus."

"Why do you wear that red headband?"

Innocent curiosity. Unlike that of Sharpener or Videl's. Goten was simply curious and had no other motive to ask him that. Of course, the answer was anything but simple. It was complex, horrible and would probably shatter any positive perception that Goten had of his brother. So, Gohan did what he always did whenever someone asked him about the headband.

He shrugged.

"Why not? Looks nice, doesn't it?"

Goten nodded. "It looks awesome on you!"

Gohan laughed. "Thank you, Goten."

That hollow heartache began growing on his chest, and his eyes turned melancholic for a few seconds. He missed that childish ignorance, of thinking that the world was a simple place. But the more he thought about it, Gohan realized the last time he had that childish ignorance was when he was four.

He missed something he never had.

"Come on, Gohan, you're slowing us down!"

"I'm going, I'm going."

"Dad, I'm going to Erasa's place!" Videl grabbed her bag from the kitchen.

Her father was reading the newspaper, gloating about the new opening of his gym on the other side of town. He was laughing and joking about how many people wanted some classes but weren't worthy of the hero's attention.

"Sure, kiddo," he said putting the newspaper down. "And be sure there are no boys at your sleepover. No dating unless they can defeat me, which is pretty impossible!"

And he went on to laughing again about how strong he was.

Videl and her father had, like a lot of parents and kids, a complex relationship. Her father was full of himself, a cocky and lecherous man who had the wealth of dozens. He spent most of his time gloating about his achievements. He had been like that always though it was tamed by her mother's personality, however, since she died, her father hadn't had anyone to stop his highly arrogant actions.

There was good in Mark Satan (few people knew his real name) though. Videl believed that behind his cowardice, he was fundamentally a good man. Though when no one was there to challenge you, the fame could get into your head. Videl wished anyone would challenge her father and actually win, it would make him come back to reality real quick.

She placed those thoughts away. Erasa would pick her up in around two minutes, so, better get out of the house.

Erasa was right on the corner, Videl could hear the pop music blasting through the metal walls. She got in pretty quickly, the smell of expensive perfume and face cream hit her in the face. But she was used to it. "You got everything, Vi?" Her friend asked.

"Yeah."

Erasa squealed. "So, the first week of school finished! Just a shit ton more to go."

"Hopefully, it passes quickly. I have better things to do."

"Ah, yes. The mysterious vigilante-"

"Murderer."

"-murderer. I heard on the news that the warehouse that had been bombed was of a criminal. Do you think the murderer had anything to do with it?"

"He must have. Though there is no evidence to back it up. That damned bastard avoids us too well!"

Erasa made a turn and then shrugged. "I heard that the mayor is having a hard time reeling all the people asking for peace. The city is divided between that topic the philosophy teacher gave us the first day."

Videl scoffed. "No one is above the law."

"Just like that quote, you told Gohan yesterday in class, what was it again?"

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster."

A red light.

Videl frowned. After one week of knowing Son Gohan, she could say that he was a pretty sardonic guy. His remarks were always full of sarcasm and laced cynically. He didn't seem bothered by anything, and he was pretty indifferent to the classes. All but philosophy. Then again, his friend Glen had described him as the opposite. It would be a matter of time to see if that was true, the teenage girl concluded, or perhaps his friend had lied for him.

And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you. I know that quote, Miss Videl, though I gotta say I'm surprised you know that philosopher. Let me tell you one now.

"Justice delayed is justice denied. That's what he answered you, right? Well, we gotta admit, he knows of philosophy."

Videl knew the way to Erasa's house, she had been there hundreds of times before, and she knew when her friend had missed their exit and instead gone all straight. "Um, Erasa, I think we missed the exit to your house."

Erasa chuckled. "It's eleven in the morning, we won't be stuck in my house all day long."

"Then, what are we doing?"

"We're going shopping!"

A groan was heard throughout the car. "By Kami, please no. You take hours when we go shopping."

"It won't be long, I promise you. Max about two hours."

"That's too long for me."

"And too little for me," Erasa smiled. "It's a compromise. And it's necessary, too. My dad's business buddy has asked him if he could keep some merchandise for a day or two. They're unloading right now."

"What's the merchandise?" Videl asked.

"Rumor says it's a baby dragon!"

"Does your dad's friend have the permits to do that?"

"Well, sure, I think," Erasa chuckled. "My dad doesn't do anything crooked, and he's known his buddy for decades now."

"I would rather help your dad's friend unload a damn dragon than spend time in the mall," Videl pointed out.

"It will be quick, I already promised you."

It was a blatant lie.

Gohan was sure that he was going to collapse from exhaustion any minute now. Was it even possible? He was too tired to think straight. If he could describe the tiredness he felt, he would describe it as being drunk but without the fun and all the hangover. He had spent most of his day in the terrible heat trying to find Icarus's third baby after Goten pointed out there was one missing.

Flying although complex in its way was just like any other action done by people, such as walking or running. And just like those two, it took energy from its user and one could end completely drained from it. Though it was rare, Gohan hadn't much energy after his constant night errands, and flying for hours trying to locate his oldest friend's baby had definitely taken a lot of energy from him.

He was miserable.

His eyes itched and teared up every five minutes, his eyelids feel too heavy, exhaustion wore his shoulders down, yawns escaped him now and then, his bruise still looked too present for his liking, and all he wanted to do was go to bed. But he couldn't. He had to find the missing dragon. He had skipped lunch, though he had sent his younger brother home as time went by. But now, at around six in the afternoon, he had to go back home. He had this damn dinner to attend.

He almost fell from the air because of the damn exhaustion. But he had managed to make it home, thank Kami.

Goten came running at him, followed by Trunks. "Did you find him? Did you find him?"

Gohan shook his head. "I'm sorry, squirt, I didn't. I'll go search tomorrow."

"Do you think he will be fine?"

Gohan ran his hand through his brother's spiky hair. "He will, don't worry, let me take care of it."

Then, he placed his attention on the other kid. He was staring directly at him and with his arms crossed, there was absolutely no doubt that he was Vegeta's son. He looked exactly like him, and he was as prideful as his father. Gohan could be more direct with him, maybe even taunt him a bit. In response, Trunks always played pranks on him. And together with Goten, they were just a devil duo.

Usually, Goten and Trunks would compete on whose father was the strongest, both having heard stories of their own. Trunks believed his father was the strongest, a simple fact (but cruel) proved it. His father was alive and Goten's wasn't. He had never told him that, of course. And although he had heard many stories about how the man named 'Goku' beat his father, Trunks simply didn't believe it.

He had seen his father fight, he had not seen Goten's father fight. And seeing was believing.

It was hard to believe, or even see, most of the time, because of his stupid poses and his stupid costume but Gohan was powerful as well. Just like everyone else in the damn world, Trunks knew of Cell and his games. He knew the story. His father had used it many times as motivation to keep going. He knew Gohan had been the one to kill Cell, the one who at the age of ten (or eleven, his mother said something about a chamber) had succeeded where even his father had failed.

Then, again, seeing is believing. And Trunks had not seen the power Gohan was said to have. His spars with his father were tough, yes but nothing the eight-year-old hadn't seen before, and they would definitely not be enough to defeat a blood-thirsty android. Usually, Gohan didn't look like someone with a lot of power, he was laid-back, frowned and cussed once in a while, and smoked just like his mother did. Oh, and his stupid poses. Yeah, not what one thought of when looking at the savior of the world.

Gohan rarely talked about his battles and his past, not that Trunks cared, he knew all the stories thanks to his parents. His faint scars weren't a rarity simply because Gohan had always been like that. The only time Trunks could remember where those scars had been a problem was that time when Gohan took his shirt off after a sparring match and cracked his shoulder. That's when the younger boy saw the huge scar. And when he asked how he got that, his father had slapped him from the back of his head and scolded him about being nosy.

Still, the older brother of Goten never really looked like the powerful being everyone said he was.

Until that day three weeks ago, when Trunks had stumbled through broken walls and had seen his father in the worst shape he could remember. Gohan, although bloodied, was still better off and even though his father's pride had made him unable to say he lost, one could see he lost. Gohan had managed to beat the strongest man Trunks knew.

And right now he looked like he hadn't slept in weeks.

"Train me," the eight-year-old demanded.

"Huh?"

"I want you to train me."

"Trunks, I'm not anyone's teacher-"

"'You help Goten," the kid said pointing at his friend. "So, that classifies as training. And if you don't, I'll tell your mom you smoke."

Gohan's face became a frown.

"What's smoking?" Goten quipped in.

"Why don't you ask your mom? Just tell her that's what Gohan does." Trunks gave a side smirk.

Yeah, that's Vegeta's son. Gohan groaned. "Shut up, I swear to all your damn toys that if you say something, your hair won't be the only thing purple, Trunks."

"So, you'll train me?"

I hope I get the privilege to call you Master in this timeline as well, Gohan.

The seventeen years old was too exhausted to deal with this as of now. He cringed at the thought of training Trunks. Not to forget that Vegeta would probably have a stroke, even if he had won the respect of the prince, it didn't mean that the prince liked to be reminded of his failures.

"I'll see."

"You have twenty-four hours to answer, if you don't, I'll tell your mom about your smoking."

And that's definitely Bulma's son.

Gohan sighed as they made their way to the house. "You're a little pain sometimes, has anyone told you that, Trunks?"

Trunks shrugged. "As long as I get what I want, call me what you want."

Train Trunks (and by default Goten because the kid wouldn't want to fall behind), that was madness. Gohan was everything but a teacher. With his little brother, it was different, they didn't really train, it was more of basic punches and kicks, there was very little technique. How the hell would Gohan manage to train two kids who weren't even ten? Yes, Gohan at their age had already fought against the responsible for the genocide of their race and had trained in the wilderness for a whole year.

But that was different, really different.

The two half-Saiyans with grins in their faces trained for fun while Gohan had trained out of necessity. He had never trained for the fun of it, it was always because there was some damn threat looming in the darkness, how to teach two kids who weren't doing it to save the world but simply to have fun?

I already have too many things on my plate. I can't and I won't.

Everyone was already there when they entered. Quickly, Gohan changed his attitude, no longer the exhausted and defeated teenager with his shoulders dropped, he was now full of energy and smiling with his head up high. He gave a glance to Mister Piccolo who stuck out like a sore thumb, his arms crossed and leaning on the wall. He smiled at him and his mentor gave him a small nod.

"Gohan, Goten told me about the dragons, did you find the baby?" His mother asked.

"No, but I will go back tomorrow."

"Don't forget about your studies, young man. Just because you finished your first week, it doesn't mean you can slack off."

Surprisingly, Gohan wasn't slacking off. All the stuff his classmates learned, he had already seen months or years ago. He, instead, looked at Bulma. She was on the couch with a drink in her hand. He smiled at her too. "How's the Memory Simulator going?"

"Oh, fine. Dad is making a few adjustments here and there, it will be completed shortly."

"I want to be there for that."

His eyes trailed off to the man beside her. Her husband and his supposed prince. Vegeta. He hadn't talked to him since the fight over two weeks ago, he had managed to squeeze a few words here and there when he visited but he didn't try to start a conversation. The Saiyan had crossed a line when he had used his father against him, and being Vegeta, he would likely not apologize. Nor he would be the one to break the ice.

If there was one thing Gohan had learned from the prince of all Saiyans (which consisted of three half-breeds, one being his son and the other two being his opponent's sons) was pride. To be prideful. Now, Gohan tried not to be over-the-top prideful like him, but he was definitely not going to be the one cracking under pressure. He was patient, and he would wait until the prince apologized.

"Gohan promised to train me and Goten starting tomorrow!" Trunks announced with a huge grin on his face.

The reactions were priceless, and in other circumstances, Gohan would've laughed.

His mother looked outright horrified, the small cup of tea she was holding fell and shattered into small pieces. Mister Piccolo looked slightly amused but mostly concerned. Bulma looked somewhere between confused and surprised. But Vegeta, oh, the prince was red as a tomato, and not from embarrassment. He looked like he was going to kill someone, and that someone being Gohan.

Goten was ecstatic, jumping around saying how his big brother would train him, and Trunks looked overly proud of himself.

Gohan, in his part, looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

Vegeta got up immediately, his hands clenched into fists and he made his way to Gohan, then, he grabbed him by his collar. "The fuck did you promise my son?"

"I-I-I," Gohan couldn't say anything. He shook his head and cleared his mind, he wouldn't be intimidated by Vegeta. "I never promised such thing."

"Yeah, you did, just now outside!" Trunks, who was by his father's side, said.

"Trunks, shut up."

Gohan's tone was sharp and commanding. Trunks' smile fell off and he shut up.

"Vegeta..." Bulma's tone was a warning.

"Gohan, stop this instant!" His mother demanded.

Gohan stared right at the prince's eyes. Don't start a fight, you prideful prince, it's not worth it. "Get your hands off me."

"Why?"

"I don't want to fight you."

Vegeta chuckled. "The pacifist, how to forget. The Saiyan who doesn't like fights gets punched by an inferior and wears a stupid headband. Coward."

A coward which only victory is that he stayed true to his ideals while others suffered.

Not many people called him a coward. Vegeta perhaps but it was usually when they were fighting, and Gohan had learned to zone out whenever he started taunting him. The people he killed never did, how could they? He was torturing them, taking the place of a god and becoming their judge, jury and executioner. He was everything but a coward.

However, in one week, two people managed to call him a coward. One of them indirectly and one directly. And Gohan was tired of it.

"You didn't understand me. I don't want to fight you, but if you dare send a punch my way, I won't back away." Not anymore.

He wasn't that stupid ten-year-old who begged a dangerous android to stop his carnage, that naive kid who thought he could heal the world with words. He had learned in every wrong way possible that if someone hit you, you hit back, and harder.

Come on, hit me, I dare you. I can feel that you're still mad about last time. So, hit me.

There was a tense moment where Gohan could feel Mister Piccolo's ki rising, preparing to intervene. Neither Gohan nor Vegeta looked away, and it seemed there was going to be a fight in the end. Gohan was strong, he knew that but he was at a disadvantage, he was exhausted. Meanwhile, Vegeta looked in form and probably was.

The hands in his collar let go and a smirk appeared on the prince's face. "So, you want to teach my son?"

Everyone exhaled a breath they didn't know they were holding in. Gohan fixed his shirt. "I never said that. Trunks was joking, right?"

The glare sent his way was one that clearly said that if he didn't go along with it, his hair wasn't going to be the only thing purple. Trunks knew Gohan could lie, if his mother didn't even know his son smoked, then he was good at it. The older Saiyan could make a lie and say it was accidental. And by the look of his father, he wasn't better off if he said it hadn't been a joke.

He laughed nervously and placed his hands on the back of his head. "Of course! I didn't think you grown-ups would take it so seriously!"

"Aw, man. I thought it was for real, you said-" Goten started.

"Well, I'm hungry!" Trunks interrupted. "Can we eat already?"

Goten's laugh broke the tension.

He was outside, his back leaning on a huge rock while he looked at the stars. It was a habit he had picked up from his time training with Mister Piccolo, it was soothing. He would look at the stars and try to find the constellations in them, then, he would name them and so on. The dinner had finished a while ago and Vegeta and his family had left. Thank Kami, the only tense moment had been the one where Trunks had lied.

The rest of the evening had been better, until one small comment from her mother when he was talking about his studies and how prestigious was the school he was in (she had prohibited him to speak about their money problems, so, he didn't).

I bet your father would be proud of you. If he could, he would be here with us.

That spoiled the rest of his evening and he fell silent once again. It didn't help when he thought he was going to collapse from exhaustion at the dinner table. But the chatter picked up and apart from a few comments here and there, Gohan didn't talk much afterwards.

Is that the Perseus constellation?

He felt the ki of someone get closer and he sighed.

"Gohan."

He looked up and saw the figure looming above him, wearing a cape and a turban, and even without much light, Gohan knew he had his serious expression on. "Mister Piccolo, how are you?"

"Good. And you?"

"I'm fine-"

"Don't lie to me."

Ah, yes. Gohan had too much respect for his mentor to try and lie to him. And his mentor knew him too well. This was exactly what Gohan was avoiding. He had managed to avoid long and deep conversations with Mister Piccolo (not that he tried to start them) but better to get on with it.

"I'm tired. I'm having a bit of an issue balancing my old routine and the new one. But I'll get better."

"What happened to your face?" His mentor was blunt and thank Kami for that because Gohan didn't have the energy to dance around subjects.

"Goten landed a good punch the other day, it's going to heal rather quickly. By Monday, it will be almost gone," he smiled.

"What happened this evening with Vegeta, it seemed you wanted him to fight you."

His tone was short but with weight in every right word.

"Why would I want to fight him?" Gohan shrugged his eyes on the stars. "Last time that happened, I got a fucking brand in my shoulder blade."

"I don't know why you would want to fight him, so talk."

"I don't have the energy to talk right now."

"Yet, you're watching the stars. So, what's bothering you, Gohan?"

That last part actually sounded genuinely concerned. Gohan didn't need that. He didn't want that. Pity. He had enough pity with the looks everyone gave him simply because he reminded them slightly of his father.

"Nothing."

Mister Piccolo felt the spike in Gohan's ki. "Your energy begs to differ."

There was a silence, it was loud and heavy. Gohan's eyes were still on the stars, shiny and far, far away.

"If I really wanted, I could destroy this planet. I can do it three times. I have incredible power in me, and yet here am I. Wasting it on school and searches for missing dragons."

His mentor's face softened, Gohan could feel it. "There's no shame in choosing a peaceful life, you've never liked fighting, and that's not bad."

He scoffed. "We study philosophy in school. Remember when I would rant about it? I have a philosophical question for you, Mister Piccolo. If one has the power to do something to help the world but to do it means to break some of his ideals, should he do it? Is moral obligation above one's ideals, or even wants?"

Piccolo didn't understand philosophy because after all, it was the understanding of humans, and humans complicated everything they saw, heard or thought. They tried to find meaning in every single thing. He was simpler than that. So, he stayed quiet for a while, trying to think of an answer. Gohan hadn't actually stopped training, he slowed down, yes, but there had been bouts of him training obsessively once in a while.

The problem was that the kid didn't have any inner balance.

And Piccolo couldn't help him with that.

"I believe people have the right to choose, and live with the consequences."

Gohan chuckled. "Though there must be a point where the power you have is no longer yours, a point where duty comes above anything and anyone else."

"Where are you going with this, Gohan?" Piccolo demanded. "What does this has to do with Vegeta?"

"Not much, it actually has to do with my dad."

"Goku?"

That's when he looked at the ground. "He's not here. And he will never be here. For some fucking reason, when he left us to go fight in the Otherworld, everyone called him selfless and honorable."

Piccolo frowned. "He left so the Earth could be at peace, Gohan."

"No, he let so he could fight with other damn opponents to get stronger. Which is stupid because he's dead and it doesn't matter if he gets stronger, what can he do? He's dead. Because he chose his damn wants, his damn fucking whims above his moral obligation."

"And what was his moral obligation?"

Gohan sighed. "Seven years. It's been seven years and not a word from him. Not a single word. If he had wanted to be here, like my mom said, he would've been here. But he isn't."

Piccolo grunted. "What can you do about it, Gohan? So, what if your father chose his desires instead of his moral obligation? It's done, and you can't do anything about it."

"Doesn't mean it's not wrong."

"I'm not saying it's right, but it passed. And pondering about it for years won't change what happened. You can't change the past, Gohan."

I have the right to grieve! For fuck's sake. Gohan scowled. Everyone treated his father like a fucking hero, even him. And it seemed the only one who saw past his father's hollow words was Vegeta. It angered Gohan. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that the destroyer of worlds got to have a wife and a son, and his son got to have his father. Gohan had done everything right and he still lost.

"You're right, we can't change the past. That's why in Trunks' timeline, my father died when I was ten and I never got to see him again, and even after all the suffering and pain and fucking punches we went through in this timeline, my father still died and I will never see him again."

"Gohan, you got the right to miss your father, to grieve for him. But you got stuck on that. And no matter how many nice words your mother says to you, or how many times I repeat it, no one can help you. You have to get yourself out of whatever hole you are in."

And with that, his mentor left him to be. Left him angered, confused, and above all, hurt.

He was going to find the damn dragon, to fuck with sleep.

The creaking of the main gate woke up Videl. And she hated that. She had spent the whole day with Erasa in the mall. The blonde girl had gone through all the stores possible and took a whole of time to decide if she wanted to buy the thing, to buy the opposite. It had been tiring and draining, and after that, all Videl wanted to do was unwind. They got to see the baby dragon, he was in a cage in the shed. He was cute and little but he seemed scared.

Videl had asked Erasa what her father's friend was planning to do with it, and she had shrugged saying that he didn't specify.

She looked at the clock on Erasa's nightstand, it read 2:38 AM. Who the hell was up and going inside at that hour? She seen Erasa's dad in the afternoon, and he wasn't the type to leave and come back at this hour, and her mother had been in the house all day.

Which meant there was an intruder. Videl frowned, supposedly they had one of the best security systems in the city, which meant this was no amateur. Her mind went to the shed immediately. What were the odds that the day Erasa's family gets a baby dragon, it's the day they get robbed?

She got out of bed and laced her shoes quickly. She wasn't going to wake up Erasa, the girl wouldn't be of much help apart from causing chaos. So, she left quietly but determined.

The house, thank Kami, wasn't that huge. And because she knew Erasa for a long time, she knew her way around it. She went down the stairs, then to Erasa's father's studio, it was usually under lock but Videl knew how to break in (it was an emergency), and so she did. She had two barrettes for tying her hair if the heat got too much. She used those to get in the studio.

She knew where the gun was, in the left drawer of his desk. That wasn't under lock, even though she had told him that he should because of safety reasons. But it was a good thing tonight. She opened the drawer and took it, it was loaded. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to use it. But one had to always be prepared. She also took the flashlight beside the gun.

With hasten, she went to the shed, hoping to find nothing out of the ordinary, to go back to bed and apologize to Erasa in the morning. But instead, she heard the muffled cries of the dragon and the sounds of shuffling. Videl wasted no time, she turned on the flashlight. "Stop!"

The figure's back was facing her. She saw the shed opened, the cage where the dragon was had been bent. The bars on the cage had been bent, creating a sort of exit for the animal. Videl couldn't believe it. Who the fuck could bend metal?

"Stop where you are! Turn around!"

The figure rose his hands and slowly turned around. From the plain view, she could see it was a man but she could not see farther than that. He wore a hooded black cloak, it seemed also a light brown masked undershirt which hid half his face, some baggy black pants and boots. Videl could not identify the man. For she couldn't see his eyes, hidden by his black hair.

"Who are you?" She demanded.

"Move, or you'll be moved," he spoke in a low voice, low and rough.

Videl pointed the gun at him. "I don't think so."

The man chuckled. "You're not the first one to point at me with one of those, let me save you the suspense, it doesn't work."

He disappeared. Leaving Videl confused about how he did it but before she could question herself further, he reappeared beside her and took the gun from her hands, that's when she saw he wore gloves and bent the muzzle upwards, leaving it useless. Videl backtracked. She knew of no one who could bend a gun, even less make it look so fucking easy.

"Who are you?"

The man dropped the gun. He smelled of cigarettes, what seemed to be the only normal thing about him.

He seemed to be pondering about something, what it was, she did not know. She took that opportunity to attack him, going for a punch but he caught it immediately. She tried to kick him in the stomach but with his free hand, he blocked the attack easily. Videl tried to free herself from the man's grip on her wrist but it seemed he had an iron grip.

"Miss Satan, stop fighting, it's useless," he said, his tone still amused.

It made Videl even angrier, she let go of the flashlight and she tried to punch him with her free hand but he caught it too, and then pushed her to the ground. She fell on her butt, pain being the first thing she felt. She shook it off and looked at the man going back to the shed. "You won't steal the dragon! Stop!"

The man did, and he groaned. "For fuck's sake, Miss Satan, let me do my job."

She got up to her feet and tried attacking again, but now, instead of catching it or blocking it, he evaded it. How is he doing that? He was too quick for her, and he looked too bored when she was giving it all. But she persisted. Kick, jab, try to land a damn blow to him. Then, he grabbed her by the arm and with his right hand pushed her again. Pain in her stomach made her fall again.

He crossed his arms and tilted his head. Then, in a disappointed tone, he said. "Your fighting is the same as your 'justice', weak and useless."

That's when she realized she was face to face with the man she had been searching for. With a monster. "And yours is good? What are you going to do now, kill me?"

The vigilante stayed silent. Then, he chuckled again. "I should. I should kill you, slowly and painfully, then ship it to your father, so he would shut up about how great he is, a fucking liar is what he truly is. Is that what you want me to say? You're as blind as the rest of them, and as guilty too."

That pushed Videl forward. How dare he say those stuff. He had no right. She got up a second time and in this one, she put all her anger at his words, kicking, punching and fighting with all she had. But the cloaked man kept evading with ease, he even gave off the feeling of indifference. And that angered her more. "Stop evading! Your justice is as false as those you kill!"

The vigilante said nothing. He just evaded or blocked but he never returned the attacks.

"How am I even guilty in your eyes? I bring justice, even if it takes time, I bring it!"

He stopped, he was holding her foot in front of his chest. Videl was exhausted, and the vigilante didn't seem to have broken a sweat. "Because, Miss Satan, when you delay justice, you're basically denying it."

Before anything else could happen, she felt a sharp pain in the back of her neck, the world began to turn black. Her last thought before she slipped into unconsciousness was about the words of the vigilante.

Where have I heard that before?

He felt he was somewhere where the air was thick, dark and cold. He could not see anything, and as he tried to move, he felt something hold him back. He didn't see what it was, but he knew they were chains. Why was he chained? How long had it been? Where was he? He tried to move again but to no avail, he was stuck. Nothing he did change his circumstances.

There was only one goal in his mind: revenge. And one emotion he felt: pain.

He didn't know why though, he only remembered extreme pain, anger and betrayal.

The thought of those words made his blood (if he had blood) boil. And he yanked the chains even harder but nothing happened. That's when he remembered he had a mouth, and so, he screamed. But he didn't hear himself, he didn't feel the air leave his body. All he knew was that he was floating somewhere where he was being taken prisoner. But why?

"You seem to finally be awake."

He looked around, but the darkness was all he saw. But he had heard something, a voice. He knew that voice but he didn't remember where he knew it from. It was low-pitched and rough, sandpaper rough.

"It's been far too long, thirty-seven years to be exact, old friend."

He remembered. Now, he remembered. He knew who was talking to him. He pulled the chains even harder, hoping to break them, but they seemed to be made of the strongest metal of the universe.

"Where am I?" His voice was rough and hoarse. He could hear his voice though, so that was an improvement.

"Do you feel their energy?"

"No. I feel nothing."

"Soon you will. You will be set free soon, have patience."

"I been stuck in this damned-I don't even know where the fuck I am! And it's all your fault, you fucking cheat," he growled. Now that he remembered, his anger just increased.

"It's not my fault, old friend. I did what you asked of me, I gave you all that you wished."

"No, you fucking did not, and stop calling me your friend, you're everything but my friend."

"Do you remember them? Do you even remember why you're stuck here?"

"Of course, I do. I will never forget them. Nor why I'm stuck here. But I know I'm not where I started."

Even if the only thing he could feel was pain, he had a hunch that not only a lot of time passed but that he was in another world.

"Do you still have it?"

"I can't feel my hands, so, asshole, I don't know."

"Pity, old friend. Don't worry, though, I'm sure you still hold unto it."

"Can you get me out of here?"

"No, I can't. After all, I am decades gone. I can't do anything but observe just like you."

"Such help you fucking are, where the fuck am I anyway?" His patience was running short and the darkness was taking him again.

"Doesn't matter."

"So, you don't know."

"Remember why you got stuck here, old friend, don't get distracted."

The pain increased and the feelings of betrayal and revenge were thrown in his face. He growled and the chains shook.

"Now, old friend, tell me, who's fault is it really that you're stuck in this damned place? Who put you here?"

The image of a man, dressed in their usual uniform, spiky disheveled hair, a frown on his lips, his most famous crossed scar and his stern look, appeared in his mind. Those damned eyes that had looked at him with such anger and disappointment.

He would never forget.

He felt another emotion, this one cut through the anger, pain and betrayal. It was so big that he felt he was going to explode. Grief. So much grief.

"Bardock."