Chapter 3: The Homefront
Seven years. Is that really how long it has been? Whenever I think of my dad, I still feel like it was that day…I still feel like the young man who could have saved his father, but didn't. So many times I thought, and I knew, it was not my fault that my dad died again, but…I still feel solely responsible. Maybe I should, because it was my arrogance that caused the entire mess with Cell in the first place. All I could do was sigh at the thought, so much had happened that year, it always came to me as a jumbled slide, insanity on a smaller scale.
I landed on the front porch of my house, my thoughts still racing about dad, how the house had lost some spirit and warmth when he left. However, it was somewhat offset by…
"Gohan!" A little orange and blue flesh bullet launched at me from behind the barely opened door. Goten, he was such a spitting image of dad. It was really funny, I never even knew that he was conceived…then again, I was somewhat distant from everyone else save my dad during the training. Why am I reminiscing about the past so much?
"Hey there squirt." I patted the guy on the head, "Mom home?"
"Of course!"
I looked through the house, wondering where mom could be. Setting the table. That was the first thought to come to mind, at this time, she would be. I put my book bag down and walked into the kitchen, "Hey mom."
She looked up at me, and that ever famous stern expression plastered its way onto her face, "Gohan, where were you!?"
I instinctively jumped back a bit, "I was helping Bulma, she needed some house work done." I had learned over the past little while that to make my mom happy, I needed to say I did house work. That made her frown literally turn upside down.
"Really, okay then, I guess that's good enough. Dinners almost ready, you better go clean up."
"Hai."
I walked out of the kitchen in my usual deliberate stride and made my way to the bathroom. A small grin had crawled its way over my face, as I could sense little Goten following me. Sometimes I couldn't help but laugh at the small things the little tyke did, he was so much like our father that I swore sometimes I saw dad right behind him. My, time was so uncaring sometimes…
I turned the handle for the hot water nearly until it was spraying over the small basin. Again, I hopped back, some small splashes missing my nice clean orange pants. Turning it back down, I added some cold water, and proceeded to wash my hands and face. Felling quite refreshed now I returned to the kitchen and sat on one of the wooden chairs and watch mother. Its odd, all the mothers of Saiyan children had aged so well compared to other parents. Then again, my dad and Vegeta didn't look a day over 30, and they were well into their 40's. I stopped this train of thought right at this station, I did not dare continue on the journey, I was kinda afraid of what I might find ^.^*. Soon mother was putting plates upon plates of food on the table and we ate it all. I amazed my mother never had a break down from all the cooking. "Oh, Gohan, I have some good news, Goku will be at the World Martial Arts Tournament."