Disclaimer—I don't own DB/Z/GT
A/N—Two days, two chapters! Alright! Ok, hope you like this, getting back on an angsty track here.
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School. He didn't WANT to go to school. But he wasn't being asked what he wanted—he was being ordered.
It'd been a little over four months since he had returned to the living world, and in that time, he had fallen into a comfortable routine. Study, play with Goten, take Goten to see Trunks and play with them both. He had even started training with Vegeta. Aside from certain—other things that came with his return, life was, well, pretty good.
One of those 'other things' was Goku. He missed his father terribly. Goku had been a stabilizing force in his life since he had returned to this planet. He had first found safety in his father's arms, and now, that shelter was gone.
Also, there were the dreams. In Otherworld, he hadn't dreamed, and he certainly hadn't missed them. On his first night back, however, he had awoken in a cold sweat to a particularly disgusting and insidious nightmare that had haunted him in the years before his fight with Cell. His dreams were back, and they were back with a vengeance.
The dreams weren't the only horrors to return. The flashbacks were also back. They weren't as common as they had been, but when they overtook him, they left him trembling on the floor with their intensity, as he had found out one sunny afternoon, playing with Goten and Trunks.
It had been bad. The flashback hadn't been the worst part, though it left him gasping and trembling with fear, huddled in a ball on the ground. The worst part had been the questions of Goten and Trunks, their innocent young eyes filled with worry for their 'big brother.' Trunks had run to get Vegeta, whose expression had been unreadable, coming upon the scene.
Gohan had seen a knowing look flash across the older man's face as the boys recounted the names he had screamed in his terror. Zarbon, Jeice, Recoom. The expression had filled him with more shame and rage than he had thought himself capable of—and then even MORE shame at the extent of his rage. But mostly, fear—he'd never wanted his father so much as at that moment.
Shortly afterwards, Vegeta had started training with him. Gohan figured that in the absence of 'Kakarott,' he was the next best choice to beat into the ground. And now school!
It wasn't that he didn't like studying, and learning—in fact, he liked them more than fighting. No blood, no pain, only the scent of the pages, and the quiet electric hum of the lights overhead as he transported himself away, if only for a little while. Learning was one of his greatest joys—it gave him time away from being—himself.
Chi-Chi had been pleased. Shocked to the extent of actually fainting, but pleased, that Goku had found a way for Gohan to keep up with his studies in Otherworld. Gohan chuckled a bit at the memory, King Kai had said, "If I can find a way to keep a black hole like Goku supplied with food, do you honestly think I can't manage to scrounge up some books from Earth?" And he had. History, literature, poetry, mathematics, science, languages—all of these, and much more. Not only that, but he had actually met a few of the figures that had MADE history. For example, Gohan knew himself to be very well versed in modern physics—who wouldn't be with Einstein for a tutor? Gohan chuckled a little—his dad never HAD told him how he'd managed to swing that. Gohan hadn't even thought that Goku knew who Einstein WAS.
But school. That was something different. It wasn't just books and electric lights, and loosing yourself for hours upon end—it was people. People his own age who were sure to be curious. He couldn't help but think that everything would be harder to hide from so many prying eyes.
He'd gotten used to the Z-senshi—they all knew his past, to an extent, and none of them condemned him for it. But now, he had to face the unknown—hordes of faces who knew nothing about him, who he was, what he'd been through. Gohan found himself idly wondering if anyone could ever really understand, besides his father and Vegeta. His experience was too out of the mainstream, too—strange.
How could he expect any of them to understand what it was like to be enslaved to an evil tyrant—his toy, his plaything. How could he expect them to know the horror he had felt when the light from some innocent's eyes had died beneath his hands. No. They could never find out. He would keep himself in the background, as he wished to do anyway, and he would be shy Gohan with no friends. It was for the best.
Slowly pulling his bag over his shoulder, Gohan set off for his first day of high school. He was as ready as he'd ever be.
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Gohan walked slowly down the street. He was going to be late if he didn't hurry, but he didn't really care. Drag….drag…drag…he was going to ruin his shoes if he kept this up!
Gohan was lost in his thoughts as he heard the sounds of gunfire in the distance. Looking up, he was shocked to see some kind of hold up occurring at a building down the street.
Gohan felt a stir of anger in his veins. *They have it so good, and they don't even know! Why are they doing this?* he thought furiously.
Gohan hesitated for a moment, but he knew he had to do it. He never changed into a Super Saiyan if he could help it. It always flooded him with bad memories, and left an unpleasant taste in his mouth for days afterward. He had diligently continued his training in the afterlife, and now with Vegeta, but those were the only times he allowed himself to ascend. But now, with the choice of either attacking in his normal form, and ruining his chances of remaining unnoticed, or changing, Gohan powered up to Super Saiyan.
It was a quick fight, barely anything for a Super Saiyan—it was over in seconds, and he was back to normal, barely affected by the unpleasant taste of old memories. Turning to leave, Gohan ran smack dab into a girl. A very demanding girl. She was pretty in an odd sort of way, but she was also pushy, demanding, and much too overbearing for his liking. She demanded an explanation, and Gohan simply shrugged and claimed innocence. It was better that way.
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"His name is Son Gohan, and I'd like you to make him feel welcome, class," the teacher finished his introduction.
Gohan blushed hotly. Did they have to include that he'd gotten perfect scores on his exams? The things had been ridiculously easy. But perhaps this, along with the clothes his mother had provided him, would help the image he was trying to cultivate. Shy, innocent—though he was nothing of the sort.
A cheerful blonde at the top of the classroom waved a hand to indicate there was a seat free. "Hi my name's Erasa! And guess who this is?" Erasa pointed to someone beside her—it was—the girl from the bank! The pushy one. The one who reminded him of his mom. "She's the daughter of the one and only!"
Gohan was confused, "Uh, what?"
Erasa giggled, "Oh, come on, you know who I mean, the man who defeated Cell! The great Hercule Satan, silly!"
Gohan blinked in shock. It was the response Erasa seemed to have been looking for, because she giggled again, but Gohan's shock was for an entirely different reason. Satan? Satan? He vaguely recalled a comical fellow with a white cape and a bushy afro from the Cell games. Why hadn't anyone mentioned to him that the man had taken credit for defeating Cell?
Gohan blushed, and absently made some appropriate comments as Videl was introduced. Did they really think he'd mind? He didn't want the credit for defeating Cell—he certainly didn't deserve it. Stacked against everything else he'd done, Cell was a tiny victory, a small bit of goodness—and even that goodness was tainted by anger. Was that what they feared? His anger? Gohan felt the shame burning low and deep in the pit of his stomach. Had they been—afraid of what he might do? Was that why they hadn't told him?
He was torn from his musing as Erasa rambled cheerfully on about the 'gold fighter' and Videl suspiciously inquired about his clothes.
Gohan, still a bit preoccupied, did his best to dissuade them. The long sleeved shirt that hid his scars so well also hid his well developed muscles.
Through the long, slow lecture, Gohan's mind wrestled with his new problem. Finally, with a sigh, he resolved to go see Bulma for some help. Her genius mind should be able to devise a solution to his problem.
Gohan knew that he wouldn't be able to resist helping out when he saw people in trouble—he didn't want to resist. He also knew, that he couldn't handle turning Super Saiyan for the least little thing. It haunted him too much. A nagging corner of his mind scampered fearfully over the question he had repressed. Why hadn't they told him about Mr. Satan?
***Ok, kind of a weird fear, but come on, wouldn't YOU be afraid that people would fear you? I would…R&R PLEASE!***