Author's Notes: Alrighty, I'm back. Now, to clear up some confusion about the last chapter. It was obvious to me—then again, I AM the authoress of this monstrosity—that quite a bit of time passed between chapters two and three. I just suddenly skipped ahead thirteen years—sorry for the confusion! Yes, chapter two ended with a fourteen-year-old Gohan leaving Orange Star to fight on his own, and chapter three picks up with a nineteen-year-old Trunks (who should be eighteen, but for the year in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber) and revived Gohan who still appears twenty-three even though he should be twenty-seven because four years have passed since he died. Have I confused you yet? Good. Now read the frickin' chapter.
"You want to what?!"
Three pairs of doubtful eyes focused on Son Gohan's decidedly determined face, struggling to discern if he was, in fact, serious in his suggestion. The elder demi-Saiyan gave no audible response, merely returned their gazes in succession.
"But, Gohan…" Bulma began hesitantly, lowering her eyes to focus on her mug of lukewarm coffee as she drummed perfectly manicured nails against it, "We've never…done anything like this before. What you're suggesting…we can't be sure of any consequences—positive or negative. We're talking about a lot of people…a lot of huma—"
"Krillin's a human—" Gohan interrupted sharply, and she raised her head, the comment she desperately wanted to add evident in her clear blue eyes: Only a human. "—but," he saved her the trouble, "he's one human. I think we've underestimated the true inhabitants of this planet for far too long. Too long has it been the duty of the Saiyans—Dad, me, Vegeta, Trunks—to save this planet. They need…a chance."
"…Why, though, Gohan?" Trunks added, questioning his master. "It just doesn't seem like it'd do anything to teach them."
Gohan was silent a moment, wording his reply carefully. "We've been training nonstop since we were wished back, you know. Day and night, almost no sleep, barely enough food to stay alive, constant sparring between the three of us—"
"I can certainly vouch for that," Bulma interjected, smirking lightly.
"—but what good has it done us?" he continued, ignoring the remark as if she hadn't spoken at all. He held his arm out full, clenching and unclenching his fist, "None of us have gotten any stronger than we already were. It's been three months, I mean, Trunks—" he turned to his pupil, "You said yourself that your training in the hyperbolic time chamber happened slowly but surely, that after a couple of months you could already see increases in your own strength, shouldn't we be seeing that same increase as well now?"
Trunks looked up as he was addressed, but just as quickly lowered his gaze again as he contemplated the question, and reluctantly confirmed his teacher's supposition. "There aren't anymore Saiyans—no more purebloods or half-breeds, unless any of us has something he'd like to say to the rest," Gohan added as an afterthought, a bit of glint in his eye, "We're all that's left—so what if someone stronger than the androids comes along, huh? Trunks won't be able to defeat them alone, and Vegeta and I certainly won't be any help if we stay at the same level we're at now. Trunks told us all about the next level of the Super Saiyan transformation—that the me of the other timeline achieved it in his fight with Cell, but as it stands none of us look to be ascending any time soon…so what now?"
He pushed away from the table and stood in place, "We go for quantity over quality. We can't get more power as Saiyans, so I say we train humans to fight like us."
Vegeta shook his head now, eyes closed in mirth at the apparent rashness of the decision. "Stupid boy… you plan to put the power of ki into the hands of such evolutionary plebeians? Are you completely your father's son as to assume that these soldiers you train will blindly follow your every order and not run at their first sight of a superior enemy? Or that they won't turn on you in the end? I've seen enough of these humans to know their loyalties do not run deep."
"And yours do?" he fired back, anger flaring.
"Gohan!" Bulma hissed. A fight between Saiyans was not what her house needed right now. She'd been through enough remodeling after android attacks.
Vegeta did not respond in kind, though, merely lazily opened an eye and gauged the demi-Saiyan. "A Saiyan's loyalties lie as deep as he plants them, boy. I didn't think I needed to remind you of that."
An awkward pause filled the room, and it was Trunks who tactfully broke it, phrasing his father's question a bit more delicately, "But, Gohan…how can you be sure they won't turn, or misuse their power even if we do get an army of ki-users? That's why we never did anything like this before…"
"No, the reason we never did anything like this before is because we never needed to do anything like this before. That's why I wanted to get you guys' opinions on it before I went away to campaign."
"Campaign?" came three simultaneous voices, laden with questioning.
"I'm going to take a trip…a journey to find the strongest, most potential fighters left on the planet. And…I'll know who's trustworthy and who's not—I'll just know. I've seldom been a bad judge of character before, I certainly won't start slacking in that department now. But we've been holding their hands for so long now…I just think it's only fair. We can't do this alone, but neither can they." He ended his speech and glanced from face to face, some turned towards him, others away thinking. "Will you help me?" he prodded.
Trunks reclined back in his chair, staring straight ahead at nothing, while Vegeta drummed his gloved fingers over the surface of the hardwood table they were all seated around. Bulma nervously glanced from son to husband, feeling she had no place in the conversation.
After a moment, Trunks slowly began to nod, "I'll…I'll do it…" He faced his master fully, then joined him in a standing position. "I'll help you train them Gohan." He was greeted with a warm smile. I know what this means to you… to give others the chance you didn't have: to save those you love most.
"Thank you, Trunks." The two now turned to the final member of their potential team, who was all too conscious that they were waiting for him to cave and defiantly holding back.
"…I just hope you realize, brat, that I don't plan on wasting my time with your little school. If you two want to waste precious time on this fool's errand, then it's your hides, but I plan on making use of this life I've been granted." He turned dark eyes upon them. "As long as I don't have to teach them…"
"Vegeta," Bulma snorted incredulously, "It'd be a martial arts dojo, what exactly would you be doing there if not teaching?"
"A just question, woman," he replied simply, "and one best answered when I'm quite drunk." He pushed his chair away from the table, "Now, why don't you be a good little human and show the nice Saiyan where you've been hiding the wine all these years."
A pause enveloped the quartet as Bulma silently fumed. "…I don't know why we revived you…" And she stomped away, with Vegeta trailing behind smirking merrily.
When the two had abandoned the dining area for the wine pantry in the building's bowels, Trunks spoke up once more. "…I can see the sign now: 'Capsule Corp. Dojo, Center of Higher Ki Martial Arts Education Since…six months from now.'"
Gohan's grin broadened. "Glad to have you on board, Trunks-sensei."
The younger demi-Saiyan clapped him over the shoulder, "Where else would I be, Gohan-sensei?"
Five and a half months later…
Gohan sighed contentedly, pleased with himself, as he tidied up his less-than-spacious capsule house graciously lent to him by Bulma for his journey—hopefully this would be the final time he'd have to carry out such a mundane task. He shook out the sheets violently, shaking off any dust or dirt that might have accumulated in them through his travels, then fluffed the pillows and placed them neatly upon the bed. Casually he flipped off all the light switches and made sure the stove and fridge were unplugged—a fire in his pants pocket from a surge overload was not what he needed as he made his last stop: this time in Orange Star City.
He recalled the few history lessons he'd received on the cities of Earth, but Orange Star was probably second in size only to West City. A major metropolitan center before the android attacks, and flourishing once again this year since Trunks had defeated the machines and made his journey to Neo Namek. Once safely positioned outside the dwelling, he punched a panel to the right of the door and watched in amazement as the building shrank to capsule form with a soft poof. Leaning forward to pick it up, he swiftly pocketed it and lifted slowly into the air, gauging his surroundings one last time and taking a final look at the map.
After checking his watch, he judged he could make it to the Orange Star dojo in under a half-hour, then ran his eyes down the list he'd prepared. "Hmm… 'North Golden Fighter Dojo,' eh?" He shrugged and smiled. "The names these people come up with for their schools these days…"
All in all, he reflected as he sped over the plains and fields below him being readied for the first harvest since the attacks had stopped, his journey had been quite profitable. He'd made stops in every major city across the globe save for Orange Star, and that would soon be rectified. As if they'd had sense scared into them from the attacks, most of the humans seemed to be greatly interested in his offer of training in a new martial arts technique, and he'd passed each of them a file containing all the information they would need until they met up with him again.
Each file contained airfare and a hotel room for three nights in West City—around the date he'd told them all to arrive. Once they arrived, they would attend the seminar introducing them to ki, explaining all about what had been done to protect the planet, in short—the entire last forty years or so. And he had been careful in choosing those he invited, as he had sworn he would be. Not everyone seemed to meet his qualifications; many appeared more interested in the promised power than the opportunity to save their own planet. These were turned away or given dummy packets—an idea suggested by Vegeta, and frowned upon by Trunks, Bulma, and Gohan. "If I could see the looks on those fools' faces who read these…" Gohan didn't think he really wanted to know what the Saiyan prince had included in them.
Thus his thoughts passed, and he found himself unconsciously lowering his altitude as he approached nearer and nearer the city limits. Another quick check of the map and he positioned himself directly over the roof of the gym, descending slowly.
Strange…he hadn't been able to find the name of the gym's owner, but no doubt one of the teachers inside would know how he might get in touch with them. Casting glances from side to side, he noted uncomfortably how few people roamed the streets of the city, even now nearly a year after the androids had been destroyed. Buildings were all in the middle of reconstruction, giant steel skeletons jutting into the sky. It was remarkably easy to find the gym not because of its great height, but because it was the only normal sized building among a forest of giants. He hadn't even needed to try and hide himself to retain any semblance of normalcy—there simply wasn't any need to since the closest person was an elderly man walking a proportionally elderly dog three blocks east.
He tentatively put a hand on the door handle and pulled outward, greeted by a blast of cool air welcoming him inside from the heat. While the exterior was marred as all the other buildings were by android fire, the interior had obviously been remodeled in recent months and smelled strongly of fresh paint and pine-wood shavings. A bell tinkled lightly above him, but no employee came to greet him, so he wandered aimlessly past the front desk, following the sounds of faint voices crying out attack yells.
After a moment of searching for the source, Gohan rounded a corner and stopped immediately to take in the rather amusing sight of thirty ten-year-olds assuming an opening fight stance, all facing an athletic young woman near his own age and mimicking her every move. Her black hair had been snapped up into a high pony-tail that bounced lightly when she performed an aggressive roundhouse, a few strands wriggling free from the band with every movement. Her blue eyes flashed in mirth as she barked out general instructions to the children, correcting a few personally in a softer voice. She would slide around behind each one in succession, righting those that needed it before moving on to the next, smiling all the while and obviously enjoying herself immensely, so comfortable did she seem.
Gohan leaned to the side against the wall and watched the entire scene unfold for a half hour, until the woman once again assumed her position before the group and bowed low, signaling for them to do the same. The children all clamored to bid her goodbye for the evening, and she kindly gave them all smiles and told them she'd see them all at the same time the next week. While the kids gathered up their belongings to await their parents, the woman who'd led the class turned her back on the group and began piling shirts and gis into a blue duffel bag at her feet, tossing in a sock as well now and then. So engrossed was she in the task that she didn't even notice Gohan stepping up onto the platform, and jumped in surprise as he cleared his throat loudly to get her attention.
"Oh!" she cried, startled, and her hand flew to her chest, then laughed off the surprise. "Oh—jeez, I'm sorry. You just—scared me."
He was penitent, "Ah, sorry about that…I couldn't think of another way to get your attention while your class was going on. They all your students?"
She nodded lightly and watched the last few file out, "Yep, every last one of 'em. Quite a handful some days, but I wouldn't trade anything in the world for this job." She returned her gaze to his, "Oh, I'm sorry—did you…need to speak with me?"
"Actually," he confessed, slightly put off that he'd have to end their conversation, though making a mental note to speak with her after his meeting with the owner, "I was hoping to speak with the dojo's master."
"Well," she smiled and held her hand out to shake his, "you're in luck—you've found her." He gripped it firmly and returned her smile—this was working out great! "So, what can I do for you? You here about lessons or something like that?"
"Ah…something like that, I guess you could say…" He withdrew one of the manila packets from his vest and handed it to her, which she tentatively took, eyebrows furrowing in curiosity. "I'm actually here to invite you to…something like a seminar, being held in two weeks at Capsule Corporation in West City."
She looked a bit incredulous to say the least. "…A seminar? What kind of seminar are we talking about, because I really don't do that whole 'shirt and tie, sit down, stuck up' kind of thing. I'm a martial artist, not a businessman. And West City? That's not exactly a hop, skip, and a jump away from Oran—"
"You'll find, if you check the packet," he gestured towards the envelope, "that your airfare and hotel accommodations have already been provided. I assure you it's completely free, all you'll have to give up is your time."
She hesitated a moment before pushing the pack back towards his hands, declining the offer, "Thanks Mr…"
"Gohan," he supplied dutifully.
Her eyes narrowed a bit, but her speech wasn't affected in the least and she didn't miss a beat. "But I think I'm gonna have to pass on your offer." This guy's a horrible salesman, she thought, a bit of pity tingeing her inner voice.
"Pass?" he repeated, a bit mystified. "But—don't you even want to consider it? I mean…" She began to walk back towards the bag and stooped over, packing again, "…you haven't even heard what it's for."
She dropped the shirt she held in her grasp and stood straight again, turning back, and crossed her arms over her chest impatiently. "Listen, Mr. Gohan, I've got another class in a quarter of an hour, and I really need to get over to the other gym—if you've got something to say, then make it quick."
He squared his shoulders as if actually preparing for an attack, "Alright—Orange Star was the final city on a worldwide tour seeking out each city's top martial artists. West City is opening a new dojo, and we'd be very pleased if you would join our staff for the opening ceremonies two weeks from now, complimentary."
She paused a moment, as if letting it sink in. "So…all you want me to do is go there for something as simple as opening ceremonies for a dojo? What kind of a place like that has opening ceremonies? And you expect me to just leave my kids here without an instructor while I go to a high-class party with a bunch of other windbags who wanna go on and on about their past tournament wins when they were probably hiding out for the past twenty years just lik—"
"Actually," he interrupted, as it appeared she wasn't going to stop her spiel anytime soon, "We'd be a lot happier if you enrolled at the new dojo."
She blinked. "…as a teacher? If you haven't noticed, I've already got students, I don't intend to abandon them—"
"No, as a student yourself."
Another moment's pause, then a short coughing laugh forced its way from her mouth. "Y-you want…you think I need to train at your gym?" she managed between giggles. "What could you possibly be teaching there that some other dojo hasn't already mastered and passed on to its own students?"
He smiled cryptically—this was exactly what he'd been waiting for—and she stopped laughing suddenly, eyes narrowing a bit more in confusion. "We'll see you in two weeks, miss." And with that he thrust the packet back into her hands, then turned on his heel and marched out the door, blasting into the sky, smirking triumphantly. Another one down. It was time to go home.
Videl Satan gaped as the strange young man marched out of her gym without saying another word to her, then turned her eyes down to the packet he'd shoved back into her hands. Slinging her bag over a shoulder, she maneuvered herself into a tiny office and dropped the duffle into a waiting chair, still eyeing the pack, and picked up the receiver, dialing a number from memory.
After a few rings, a weary male voice answered on the other end with a prerequisite, "South Golden Fighter Dojo, Amano speaking."
"You have to start getting some sleep Amano," Videl chided over the line, and the boy clutched the receiver a bit more frantically and sat up straight in his seat, as if fearing the girl might see him lounging over the phone-line. "People are gonna start thinking we run a sleep clinic and not a martial arts gym if you keep nodding off at the front desk."
"Well," he yawned loudly, "it's all the same, you know, 'dojo'… 'dozing'…" Videl laughed lightly over the line.
"Whatever, Amano, whatever…"
"So what'd you need? Shouldn't you be on your way over here?"
She nodded though he couldn't see it. "I am, but I needed to ask a favor of you first."
"…A favor? Sure, what?"
Holding the phone between her neck and shoulders, she began throwing punching pads into the duffle bag as she talked. "I think…I might take a vacation in a couple of weeks. Just for a few days."
He started, brows furrowing. "You getting overworked? 'Cause, I mean, I can call off a few classes—you don't have to train all the time, you know…not anymore…" he added as an afterthought, voice softening a little around the delicate subject of the past decade or so.
"I know, I know, and it's not overwork or anything like that. I just figured I'd get out and see the sights, you know."
"Right…" Amano agreed, sarcasm lacing his voice. "And just where might you be taking your little break, since you seem so keen on being vague all of a sudden?"
"Ah ah ah," she scolded, "First you have to promise to take over my classes when I go."
"Aww, but—Videl! Those're the intermediate and advanced classes! And the women's self-defense class! You know how hard they kick—and where!" Nothing but light laughter drifted over the miles separating the two. "Fine…" he sighed in defeat, "I'll do it. Now, are you gonna tell me where you're going?"
"West City—Capsule Corporation."
Well, the room, at least, was nice.
It was two weeks since the strange man named Gohan had come to her dojo peddling free airfare and a few nights' stay at a fairly decent hotel—considering most of the hotels in the vicinity were still under construction, this was probably the nicest available actually. She threw her bags into the center of the room and flopped onto the king-size bed, pleased at how comfortable it felt—not the usual hard lumpy mattress she was accustomed to sleeping on in the back room of the dojo back in Orange Star. She checked her watch and frowned; she needed to get to bed soon. Her flight had been slightly delayed for a passing storm, and she'd gotten in later than she'd intended after waiting nearly an hour to catch a cab. Surveying the other passengers at the airport, she wondered distantly if any of them were on their way to West City as she was, and what they'd been told—if anything—to expect. The "seminar" was slated on the schedule included in the packet to begin at 9:30 the next morning—far too early for any sane person, in her opinion. Still…what had he been talking about when he dropped off so cryptically at her final question?
Two weeks of stewing over possible answers had done nothing to calm her nerves. But now she was here, and in only a matter of hours she'd finally realize what he'd meant. With her luck, though, it'd all turn out to be a scam of some sort, just to get media attention. Sure, gather tons of martial artists at your dojo and invite a few key members of the press and presto: instant notoriety! With a frown she pushed herself up from the bed and unzipped her bag, rummaging through it in search of sleep clothes.
Someone would pay if they were going to use her that way. And she had a pretty good idea who that someone would be. If he even had the guts to show up at something like that and face all the people he'd duped into coming. She highly doubted it.
8:30 came just as early in the morning as Videl had feared, but somehow she managed to coerce her feet into carrying the rest of her body into the shower to prepare for the 9:30 meeting, feeling much more refreshed and ready to face the day than before. She toweled her hair off and slipped into some comfortable yet casual clothes—as if she was going to try and make an impression for their little media frenzy! Letting her hair air dry for the next half hour, she snapped it up into a ponytail as she headed out the door down to the ground level to catch a taxi, her packet tucked firmly in the crook of one arm.
Managing to successfully hail one within five minutes, she was rushed to the address—no less than Capsule Corp. itself—and stepped out onto its spacious green lawn, drawing in a deep breath to calm herself. A quick glance around informed her that she was not alone: capsule cars dotted the street in long rows on either side of the front walkway, and people were filing up to the main entryway in small groups. She slid into line behind a few well-built men and wrinkled her nose slightly—oh yes, this was definitely a media event if she'd ever seen one.
One by one the other martial artists were ushered inside by a woman with short-cropped blue hair in a lab coat at the door, smiling and greeting each as he or she passed by, checking them off of a list on a clipboard she held in her hand.
"Dojo?" she asked politely when it came Videl's turn.
"Ah, North Golden Fighter Dojo, Orange Star City," she replied promptly, and the woman chuckled lightly and marked it off the list. She looked back up and pointed down a long hallway to her right, "Just head down here, last door on the left is where the meeting'll be." After a quick glance at her watch, the woman continued, "Actually it should be starting any minute now, you'd better hurry."
"Thanks," she managed before being pushed to the side by the next group entering, then shoved her hands in her pockets and began traipsing down the hall. "Hmm, last door on the left was it?" It couldn't have been any door other than the last on the left, apparently, as this was the only one open. The double doors were propped open, leading into a huge gym facility, windowless, with fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Rows of chairs were set up, most of which were already filled, but Videl managed to spot one on the second row and squeezed in, if only to get a nice view of the fiasco she'd subjected herself to.
Five minutes passed, when another set of double doors on the opposite wall were flung open, and a man barely Videl's height stepped into the room, a decidedly pissed expression flitting across his face, disdainful to say the least. Following close behind him was the same woman who'd been the door-keep when she'd entered, and behind them still was the man who'd come calling on her two weeks ago: Gohan. At his side was another, probably younger from his features, man who looked remarkably similar to the woman in front of him. Videl sat up to get a better view as the quartet stepped up on a small stage that had been erected for the meeting. While the short man appeared to want nothing to do with any of the room's occupants, Gohan and the younger man looked a bit apprehensive and anxious if she had to classify the air they were giving off.
The idle chatter of the room slowly died down when Gohan stepped forward, until eventually a deadly silence settled over all, and Videl shuddered a bit unconsciously when his dark eyes fell upon her as he surveyed the attendees. He cleared his throat, not unlike he'd done upon first meeting her.
"Everyone, I'd like to thank you all for coming all the way here, I know it was quite a trip for some, but I trust the accommodations we've provided have been acceptable. It's been a few months since I've seen some of you, others I met only a few weeks ago. However, what matters now is that you all responded to my request that you come here and give me a chance to explain exactly what I'd like to do." He paused and cast a sideways glance at the lavender-haired man to his right. "First, however…I'd like to introduce myself. Some of you know my name, some don't. So…" The other man stepped slightly backwards, as if taking cover from something.
"My name is Son Gohan, and I—" He stopped off for only a second, and had Videl blinked she would have missed the entire thing. It was as if time had slowed to a crawl, and looking back, she wouldn't be able to tell anyone how she managed to stay conscious and not faint from shock. A brilliant explosion of light erupted on stage, temporarily blinding all within ten feet of him, and when vision finally returned to the onlookers, Gohan seemed to have disappeared, replaced by a new being. One with vibrant golden hair and bottomless teal eyes, "—am a Saiyan."
At this he stepped back as his companion had done, and now it was the other man who stepped forward for an introduction. "And my name is Trunks Briefs, and I—" Another eruption of light, "—am also a Saiyan."
Him…him…him…
Over and over and over the chant repeated, a steady drumbeat of realization pounding in her head. The very namesake of the dojos she'd established with Amano, here, before her very eyes, in the flesh, after nearly a decade and a half. Gohan…
She should leave; she should leave right now. She should just rise up from her seat, turn and walk down the row, and just keep going until she was back in Orange Star. It would all be for the best that she just forget about this whole thing and return to her normal life as a martial arts teacher to those that came seeking training. That's what she should have done.
Videl Satan, though, was seldom one to do as she should. Instead, she remained firmly planted in her seat, quietly seething, fingers digging into the soft cushion of her chair like claws, eyes narrowing all the while until she could barely see out of them. But that was fine, she didn't need to see. She'd already seen it before. Thirteen years ago.
As if that night would ever leave her memory…seeing the lonely-faced boy, backlight with that strange orange flickering light of the fires blazing around their home, eyes so full of rage and anger that she'd actually feared for her own life. She could still feel the pull of her hand against the rough cloth of his gi pants as he'd taken to the sky when she'd begged him not to go, and could still feel the warm rush of air that had sent her hurtling back to the ground as he exploded in that same burst of light…
Gohan…it was you…it was always you… Somehow, before he'd even spoken his name two weeks before, she'd felt something from him. Some connection that she couldn't quite see, thin and glossy as a spider's web, but just as existent. It was there, and she could feel it, but couldn't grasp it—until now.
The room had slid into mild chaos upon the flashes of light that sent Gohan and Trunks into Super Saiyan form, with confused chatter sprinkled about the room as the attendees conversed among themselves as to just what in the world a 'Saiyan' was. All questions were silenced, though, when Gohan stepped forward again, hands clasped behind his back, hair still a brilliant gold hue.
"I know the question that's on all your minds right now, and that you're all wondering if this is real, or just some sick joke. I can assure that it is quite real, though to explain it all would require more time than we've been given right now. I will tell you this, though: Each of you was personally selected to come to Capsule Corp. and train with Trunks and me. Many of you have already voiced your questions on this subject: what sort of training?" He turned to Trunks now.
"Inside all living beings there is an energy well, which with time and training can grow and be used. This ki as we call it, is how this planet has been kept safe for the past forty years—and many of us haven't even been around that long." Trunks lifted into the air some ten feet, twisting a bit for show to assure any onlooker that he was most definitely not being held up by any wire or pulley system. "Ki martial arts extends to flying, as you see Trunks now," he gestured to the boy, "As well—" Gohan formed a baseball-sized energy sphere in his hand and tossed it to his pupil, who batted it away into the far western wall with no more force than swatting away an annoying insect, whereupon it formed a five-foot radius hole in the wall, much to Bulma's dismay, who stamped her foot angrily from the side, "—as energy blasts." All eyes in the audience had now grown to twice their normal size from pure shock, and even Videl couldn't remain blasé about the show, arms relaxing a bit as she followed the blast.
"Saiyans can use ki, humans can use ki, and there are many other races that can use ki as well—but that's for another time. What matters now is the choice you make here: We want to teach you, to train you all in ki martial arts. You are the best of the best, the pride of your respective cities, in short—the strongest humans on Earth. But you have only scratched the surface of your true potential. You all have only recently recovered from the twenty years of terror the androids unleashed upon us. Some of you lived in fear, hiding for the most part…others…well, you're probably wondering what you're doing here, and why you're not dead, because you distinctly remember dying…but I digress." He smiled softly and crossed his arms over his chest.
"They did not suddenly disappear—they were defeated. But could they be beaten again, or if someone stronger came, could they be defeated? It's doubtful. And I don't know about you, but I grew up on this planet, it's my home, and I will do everything within my power to protect it and its inhabitants. Even going so far as to pass that power onto others. Hear me: if you accept my offer of training, it will be hard, it will be near impossible at times, you will have the utmost expected of you, for you'll be training to defend this planet from beings so powerful you can't even begin to comprehend their strength. You will face pain, you will face death, but you will always remember the higher purpose: the greater good.
"This is all I have left to offer my planet…and I pray it will be enough." His voice dropped off, echoing slightly off of the far walls until the same deathly silence that had pervaded the room before once again settled upon them. "You have three days to make your decision, please use them wisely. This is not a task to be undertaken lightly, it is a lifelong commitment. Many of you have separate lives you're anxious to return to, and I understand that completely. Some of you, though, I hope will take me up. Thank you, and good afternoon."
Slowly the flood of bodies crowded towards the double doors they'd entered by, squeezing and shoving to get out, back to their respective hotel rooms to let the entire speech sink in. Many were still in shock, the force of realization not having yet slammed into them. It would hit sometime around five minutes from now, frightening many a cabbie as their passengers slipped into dead faints.
For Videl there was no rush whatsoever—at least for herself. She'd actually feel better the sooner everyone else left. Because then she could give him a piece of her mind she'd kept for just such an occasion for thirteen years. She made as if to file for the door along with everyone else, but stopped just before exiting and slid to the right, body propped up against the wall as she leaned backwards, still fuming inside, arms firmly crossed over her chest. Up on the stage, Gohan and the one who'd introduced himself as Trunks conversed lightly, both having now dropped back to their normal state—no doubt pondering the impact of the demonstration on the masses now exiting the building. Every now and then they would turn and direct their queries to the shorter man who'd hung behind, who would offer short inaudible retorts, often accompanied by the woman smacking him sharply across the shoulder in reprimand. This display carried on for ten minutes, until it seemed the only occupants left in the gym were Videl and the four on stage. She pushed off the wall and slowly approached him.
The loud clopping of her boots on the hardwood floor was enough to snap Gohan and the others from their conversation, and he brightened when he noticed her approaching their group. Turning, he stepped down off the stage and began to advance on her, "Well? I told you you should've come—was it anything like what you were expect—"
SLAP
Her hand connected solidly with the smooth flesh of his cheek, and though she'd intended to hurt only him, her palm was now throbbing painfully, and he seemed more shocked than in pain. His mouth hung halfway agape and he pulled his upper-body back in recoil, eyes wide and confused.
"…How dare you…" she hissed through clenched teeth, thirteen year's worth of bitter regret and anger bubbling over like a pot left for too long on a burner. "How dare you bring me here… after so long…"
He fumbled stupidly for words of reply, and she couldn't help but flash back to their first meeting. He'd knocked her down, he'd been so strong, and yet so obviously still a child mentally… "Wha—what are you…talking about…?"
Her frown, if it was at all possible, deepened in disgust, and she spat out, "Videl Satan, of the Orange Star City Orphans."
His perplexed and pained expression remained for about another half-second before realization slammed into him with more force than one of his father's Kamehamehas, and his skin tone took on an ashen gray hue, giving him the distinct appearance that he was about to be quite sick. And indeed, he seemed to sway a bit as his eyes blurred in and out of focus until Trunks, who'd been watching the display between the two with his mother and father, rushed to his side in the blink of an eye, steadying his former master.
"Gohan—Gohan?! Are you alright? Gohan?!" He gave no audible response, merely waved off the aid and slowly straightened back up, peering deep into her eyes. They were quivering slightly, though he doubted it was from sadness as much as anger. The eyes she saw were wounded and hurt, nearly impossible to connect to the bright mirthful ones she'd watched walk out of the door of her dojo two weeks ago.
"I…I'm sorry…" he managed, though the tone implied more of a realization that yes, he was sorry, as if the thought had never occurred to him before. And perhaps, she pondered, it might not have.
"'Sorry'? You abandoned us, Gohan…" she whispered spitefully, "you left us alone, to fend for ourselves, when those monsters were hovering around, just waiting for us to show our faces—"
"I left to save you!" he snapped back, a bit more forcefully and defensively than he would've liked, now once again in full control of his faculties. Trunks pulled back, not hardly wanting to get in the middle of this fight, whatever it was over. "If I hadn't left, they would've just come back for me… do you really think I wanted to go?! If it had been up to me, I would've stayed there forever! But no—I stayed for just six months, and look what happened! Every last one of them—"
"Not everyone!" she objected; this was turning into more of a trial for her than him. He wasn't supposed to turn the tables like this! It was supposed to be she who was mad. "I survived, Amano survived, Sari, Nole, they all survived! And what did they have to wake up to? Certainly not what they'd gone to sleep to! You ran Gohan, ran away from your home, because that's what it was to all of us—your home, just as much as it was mine or theirs. When we woke up, and you weren't there, it killed us, Gohan—we were angry, we were scared—"
"I was scared too! I was fourteen years old, Videl, I shouldn't have had to be doing any of the things I was. You think I liked leaving that night? No, but when my other option was staying and putting you all in danger again, it seemed like the best choice at the time!" His chest heaved beneath the heavy gi shirt he wore as he drew in deeper and deeper breaths in an effort to properly oxygenate himself.
She lowered her head and covered her face, frustrated, with her palms as if shielding herself from his and the others' gaze. "…I was all they had left after that attack…and you were all I had left… and then you went away…" Her voice cracked on the last statement, and inside she was reliving that morning all over again
Look over, the sun's just rising, the fire's long dead…Amano asleep across the way, Nole, Sari…the children…Goh—
But there was no Gohan. Nor would there ever be a Gohan ever again. They stayed in that spot for a week, and every morning she would wake before the sun rose and just watch for him, sometimes even lying down as he'd done, ignoring the gravel and shards of debris digging into her exposed flesh, and just close her eyes and dream that he was back, and it was all like before. When they were all laughing and retrieving presents for the children, scolding Niko for frightening the younger children, praising Nole for his knack for comforting them afterwards…
She sobbed loudly without realizing it, then broke down further into tears as warm motherly arms enveloped her, with Bulma stroking her hair as if she were her own daughter. "Shh…shhh…" she soothed, and the two stood like this for the next ten minutes while the men looked on in awkward silence.
Once again Videl was ushered into a room by Bulma, though this time she was shown into the kitchen for some, "proper nourishment," as the older woman called it. True, Videl remarked mentally, she hadn't had a decent meal in over twenty-four hours since leaving for the East City Airport—the only one within miles that was already operational again—and she'd been in such a dazed state still in the gym that she couldn't possible object to the woman who guided her into the inner rooms of the building, with the three Saiyans trailing behind, two slightly curious, one quite guilt-ridden.
"Here." Bulma passed a bowl of soup across the table to Videl, and assumed a seat across from her, the others doing the same around her. Manners alone stayed her from diving into the meal like a starving dog, but still she ate a bit more ravenously than normal, slurping down the liquid in large gulps. Smiling, Bulma remarked lightly, "Almost reminds me of you Saiyans…"
Videl looked up quickly, spoon an inch from her mouth, confusion evident in her eyes, but she was waved off. "Never mind, never mind…" so she continued her meal. After a few more minutes and a few more refills, it seemed her hunger was pretty much sated, and she sighed contentedly, turning to Bulma.
"Thanks so much for the meal, Mrs. Briefs," she spoke, her first words since her outburst with Gohan. The four onlookers exchanged glances, then smiled slightly—so, she could actually form words without yelling them, could she?
"Please, there's no need for such formalities. Really, just call me Bulma…Videl, right?" A nod was returned. "Well," she sighed, "I'd like to be able to say something witty like, 'So you're the girl we've heard so much about,' but I can't since, well, we haven't heard anything about you."
"Yes, just who exactly are you, girl? And how is it you know this boy?" Vegeta, obviously, was the next to introduce himself in contemptuous tones, jerking a thumb over to Gohan on hi left. "You're not his mate or anything are you?" He stood up abruptly and placed his hands firmly on the table, leaning forward, "Because I'll be damned if any brat of Kakarrot's is going to be getting some before my—"
"VEGETA!" The elder Saiyan once again winced in protest as a fist came down on the back of his head, dotting his vision with tiny pinpricks of light. The octave the voice had shot up to made it obvious whom it had come from, but he certainly couldn't remember the woman being able to hit so hard. Maybe she'd been secretly training all these years, preparing for his imminent return…the thought was too horrible to dwell on, so he shook it off quickly.
"Really, though," Trunks interjected conversationally, "Just how do you know Gohan? I've known him for…jeez, it's got to have been nearly ten years now, hasn't it?"
He nodded in affirmation, "Yeah, but you knew me three years too late to have known Videl…We…kinda met up in Orange Star back in the first years of fighting the androids…" He clasped his hands together in front of his mouth, as if thinking, remembering. "It was probably three years after I'd left home to fight on my own…and I came to Orange Star to see if there was anyone left, or if I was too late again…and then…"
"He met us," Videl added softly, gaze unfocused, staring at nothing, "And stayed for six months…"
In an effort to lighten the conversation, Bulma playfully queried, "Oh? 'Stayed', huh? As in you lived with a girl? My my, Gohan, I didn't think you had it in ya…" Vegeta snorted at the incredulity of it all, quickly covering his mouth to keep a harsh bark of laughter from squeezing out.
Gohan started, then remembered just who was making the comment, and idly returned, "Well, if by 'lived with' you mean I stayed under the same roof as her in a gender-segregated abandoned furniture store along with about fifty other children, most of whom were younger than me—then yes, we lived together. Quite happily, I might add." He spared a quick glance at Videl, who despite her very best efforts was failing to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching up into a smile, shoulders slightly shaking trying to contain her laughter. "Videl was the leader of a group of children made orphans by the android attacks," he added.
"Not so much a leader," she objected, "as a resident caretaker—"
"—and taskmaster, if I recall."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh yeah, you should've heard the boys at night, 'Man, that Videl, she had me cleaning the shower stalls again—'"
"Come on, you can't tell me you believed everything Niko said—" Her eyes widened in horror and she swiftly clapped a shaking hand over her own mouth, abruptly cutting off the banter. It was amazing how easily they'd sunk back into their roles as friends after thirteen years apart, and even more amazing how easily they'd both forgotten just why it had been thirteen years since they'd seen each other.
Once again Trunks, Bulma, and Vegeta could do nothing but look on in mixed worry and confusion as the two chatted back and forth like old friends, oblivious to their onlookers, then suddenly broke off, cold and detached once more.
"I…I didn't mean to…I just for—"
"Forgot, I know…" he interrupted gently, "I guess I kinda did too…" The silence continued, and the minutes ticked by at a snail's pace. "It's just…with you here…it seemed like…like it was back to the way it was before…" He looked up at her, and she could feel his dark eyes boring into the crown of her head, willing her to look up and meet them, "you know?"
She nodded silently, reluctant to speak again for fear something else might come shooting out that she would immediately regret. Gohan gauged her, knowing full well he was treading on very thin ice at the moment—it was best to stay away from that topic for the moment, though he wasn't so naïve anymore to think that this was the end of it by any means. Instead, he questioned casually, "…So, what've you been doing all this time? Thirteen years…you have to have some stories."
This seemed to perk her up a bit, "Well, you saw the dojo when you came to Orange Star, though why you came to that one is beyond me…"
"What?" he spoke, and this garnered the others' attentions as well, who had been trying to be polite by looking away or simply keeping quiet while the two talked. "Why shouldn't I have gone there?"
"Oh, it's not so much that you shouldn't have, really," she explained, "It's just, most people don't know about it."
"What're you talking about?" He was even more confused now, "You must've had thirty kids in there with you—and you're trying to tell me people didn't know about your dojo?"
"No, no," she recovered, "Just most people don't know about that one. North Golden Fighter is the new one—we've already got another one well established in the old downtown district, ironically enough two block down from the old furniture store. We had to expand, so Amano tends the old one while I run extra classes at the new one."
Gohan's eyes lit up in recognition and excitement, "A—Amano?! You—he runs the dojo with you?!"
He was nearly tripping over his words as he was wont to do when he got too excited or nervous, and she nearly smiled again, but suppressed it, putting in its place a sideways glance. "Yeah…he teaches beginners' classes twice a week…why?"
"It's just—I didn't know he was there too! Well," he corrected himself, calming a bit, "I didn't know you were there in the first place, but it never struck me he might still be there too. This is great!"
"Umm, he'll be glad to know you're alive and well too," she spoke, voice tainted with a sarcastic tone, "But just why is it so great?" Apparently the others wanted to know as well, as Gohan rarely became so excited as he was now.
Instead of replying, he turned to Trunks, whose brow was creased in confusion as to his teacher's motives. "You think we can handle another student?" Ah, now he understood what this was all about…
"W—wait, Gohan!" Videl objected.
"Huh?"
"Well, we can't just call him and say 'Hey Amano, ran into an old friend of ours today, wanna learn how to fly?'"
He blinked. "…Why not?"
Dear Kami, was he still this naïve? Please let him have matured some over the years… "Well, for one thing, he's the only one left to run the dojos. Acted like he was gonna have a heart attack when I told him I was going away for a few days. Can you imagine what it'd be like if he had to do it all himself the entire time? As it is I'm gonna have a hard enough time staying here myself—and before you even ask, of course I'm staying and training with you, you really think I'd decline?—but if he left as well, then there wouldn't be any instructors left."
Gohan frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. That would've been perfect too…the three of them together again…he looked up when he felt a hand tapping him on the shoulder, and turned to the side, peering straight into Bulma's eyes. She motioned for him to lean down and whispered into his ear.
Apparently whatever she'd said definitely agreed with Gohan, for his face lit up once more just as it had been. "So, you're saying you'd call him and convince him to come and train if you can get someone to watch the dojo for you?"
She narrowed her eyes—what was he playing at now. "…Yeah, I guess so," she conceded, though still unsure of what he was beating around. "…Why?"
Bulma was already at Gohan's side, the cordless phone blaring a dial tone.
Post Chapter Notes: Well, can you guess how they're gonna work it out? Digital cookie and a gold star if you know who Gohan's gonna call in! I COULD give you a hint…but I'm not. Whee, my first real chapter update in over a month. Man it feels good to get that outta my system. Now, I suppose this means I should get the next IAS out soon huh? Yeah yeah…—sage