Disclaimer: This story is a not-for-profit fan work based on Akira Toriyama's Dragon Ball series. I claim no affiliation with Bird Studios, Toei, or FUNimation.

Heroes and Hotel Paper

"Please be quiet while I explain your next writing assignment," the English teacher announced. A number of students groaned predictably in response. Ignoring them, she continued, "You will be writing an essay, due on Monday. You know the drill – minimum five paragraphs, but it's quality, not quantity, that matters, et cetera. The topic is heroes. Now, I'm giving you a bit of freedom with this topic. Feel free to go wherever it takes you. You can write about your personal hero, what it means to be one, an analysis of literary heroes – whatever comes to mind. You have the rest of the period to get started."

Son Gohan leaned back in his chair and sighed. Of all things, it had to be heroes. It wasn't that he didn't have anything to write about; he just wasn't so sure he felt like sharing. He was having a hard enough time keeping his abilities a secret as it was. If he were to write what he really thought in his essay, it would be almost impossible to keep his secret any longer, especially with Videl around.

Gohan scanned the room. Most people would probably write about Mr. Satan, he guessed. He smiled to himself. How ironic that the real savior of the earth was sitting in the same room, and his classmates didn't know a thing. An unsettling thought crossed his mind. Hopefully no one would bring up the Gold Fighter or the Great Saiyaman and feel the need to dig around for information. . .

"Hel-looo, earth to Gohan!"

Gohan snapped out of his trance. "Huh? What?"

Erasa giggled. "I asked you a question, silly."

Gohan straightened up in his chair and grinned apologetically. "I'm sorry. I spaced out for a minute. What were you saying?"

The blonde-haired girl propped her elbows on the desk. "I asked what your essay's gonna be about," she said.

"Oh. Well, I'm not really sure yet," Gohan replied. "How about you?"

"I'm writing about our city's defenders, Videl and the Great Saiyaman."

Gohan nearly fell out of his chair.

Of course Erasa would choose that. Heroes was a very broad topic, but of course Erasa just had to write about the protectors of the city, the Great Saiyaman being one of them. Gohan laughed nervously as he pulled himself back together. "R-really?" he asked. "That's great, just. . . great. . . hehehe. . ."

The teacher looked at him pointedly. "Is there something you'd like to share, Gohan?" she asked sharply.

His cheeks flushed. "No, ma'am," he responded in a small voice.

"All right, then get to work."

Gohan sighed. This was not turning out to be a good day. . .


By the time P.E. rolled around, Gohan was still thinking about the English assignment. He didn't even hear the gym teacher call his name when the class split into teams for basketball.

"Gohan. Gohan!"

He blinked several times and saw Videl glaring at him. "Huh?"

"You're on my team. Hurry up so we can get started," Videl snapped impatiently. "You can play basketball, right?"

Gohan nodded meekly. "All right, then. You jump since you're the tallest."

He found himself face-to-face with Sharpner. "Oh, look, it's nerd-boy," the jock sneered. "Did you learn to play basketball from a book, too?"

But Gohan wasn't listening. A classmate whose name he didn't know tossed the ball into the air. Before Sharpner could even react, Gohan jumped and tipped the ball to one of his teammates. The game got underway.

Gohan paid little attention for most of the game, but the few times the ball did come his way he made the shots with ease. When his teammates noted how good he was, he just laughed it off. He caught Sharpner scowling at him. "Umm, beginners' luck?" he said with a nervous chuckle.

"I don't know how you do it, nerd-boy," Sharpner growled, "but I'll show everyone here who's the real athlete." He took a shot, and it bounced off the rim. Gohan grabbed the rebound and passed it to Videl, perhaps a little too hard.

"Ouch, that was my boob, you jerk! And what kind of idiot throws a pass hard enough to knock his own teammate over?"

Gohan's face turned bright red. "Oh, man, I'm sorry—"

"Never mind, just pay attention to the game!" she snapped.

The game continued, and Videl's team was in the lead. One of his teammates passed the ball to Gohan, and he began to dribble. That is, he did until the ball slammed straight through the floor.

The gym teacher ran over. "Is everyone okay? What happened?"

The students merely stared at the hole, completely dumbfounded. Gohan stood next to it, pale-faced and looking rather uncomfortable.

"Well?"

"Well, um, you see, sir, I was just dribbling, and the ball sort of just. . . fell through," Gohan responded in a small voice.

"I, err, see."

"Maybe the floorboards were weak?" Gohan suggested meekly, twiddling his thumbs.

"Maybe," the teacher said doubtfully. "I'll have to look into it." He peered at the hole again and cleared his throat with a note of authority. "Well, I guess that's it for basketball today. Class dismissed."

Gohan slammed his locker shut with a loud BANG. Gohan, you idiot! he chided himself. You should have paid more attention to controlling your strength. Now people are going to be asking questions.

Gohan turned around to find Videl leering at him suspiciously. Speak of the devil, he thought. Just the person he didn't want to see.

"Oh, hi, Videl," he said with false enthusiasm. "I didn't see you there."

"Save it," she said impatiently. "I want to know what really happened during P.E."

"I don't know. Like I said before, it was probably weak floorboards. . ." He grinned nervously.

Videl snorted. "I doubt it. You're hiding something, Gohan, I know it!"

"I'm not hiding anything." He looked at his watch. "Well, I'd better go. I'm supposed to meet a friend at a certain time, and I intend on keeping my word. See you tomorrow!" He rushed for the stairs, praying that Videl wouldn't follow him. He sighed with relief as he heard her storm off in the opposite direction.


The flight to Capsule Corp. did not take long. Gohan knocked, and a maid answered the door. "Hello," she said warmly. "Come in. Your mother and brother are already here. They and Miss Bulma should be right down that hallway."

Gohan nodded his thanks and headed in the direction she had indicated. He could feel two kis moving his way. Two small boys rounded the corner and raced toward him. "Gohan!" cried the spiky-haired one, the smaller of the two.

"Hey, squirt, how's it going?" Gohan asked as he ruffled his little brother's hair affectionately. "You guys having fun?"

"We put Trunks's grandpa's cat in the washing machine!" Goten piped up, eyes bright.

"Yeah, and then Grandpa started running all over the place yelling and stuff. And then the cat jumped out of the washer and onto his face! It was funny," Trunks added with an insolent grin.

"Sounds like you two had an, err, interesting day," Gohan said with a smile. "Well, I ought to let Mom know I'm here." He left the duo to their own devices and went to the room where Chichi and Bulma were talking.

"Hey, Mom. Hello, Bulma," Gohan said upon entering.

"Hi, Gohan," Bulma greeted. "Long time no see."

"Hi, sweetie," Chichi said. "Now, I want you to get started on your homework right away like we discussed."

Gohan found a chair and sat down. He opened his bag to fish out a fresh piece of paper, only to find that he had none. "Crap," he muttered.

"Language, Gohan," Chichi warned.

"Sorry, Mom." He turned to Bulma. "Uh, Bulma, you wouldn't happen to have any paper I could use, would you?"

"Sure, there should be some in that drawer right there."

"Okay, thanks." Gohan opened the drawer and found a large pad of hotel stationery. "The Hikari Hotel," he read.

"Oh, I remember that place!" Bulma exclaimed. "That's the hotel we stayed at during the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai. Man, those were good times."

"They certainly were," Chichi said reminiscently. "I'll never forget that tournament. . . fighting Goku and marryin' him all in the same day. . ."

"Isn't that also the tournament where Dad fought Piccolo?" Gohan asked.

Bulma nodded. "It sure was. And it was quite a fight, I can tell you that."

"Wow," Gohan said as he set the pad back down. "You guys went through some pretty incredible stuff back then."

"Yeah, we did." Bulma saw him close the drawer. "Oh, you don't have to do that. Go ahead and use the paper!"

"Are you sure?"

"Of course!"

"All right. Thanks."

Gohan settled down in a chair and stared at the blank paper. Now he had fighting on the mind. The essay topic combined with his mother and Bulma's reminiscing. . . he found himself thinking about all the battles he had seen as a little kid. Training with Piccolo. . . the battle against the Saiyans. . . watching helplessly as Piccolo sacrificed himself to save Gohan. . . the battle with Freeza. . . witnessing Goku transformation into a Super Saiyan when Kuririn died. . . fighting Cell. . . Goku's sacrifice. . . Gohan barely registered what he was doing, his hand flying across the paper as he began to write.


Heroes

By Son Gohan

Many people assume there is a set of requirements one must meet, a certain mold one must fit into, in order for a person to be considered a hero, but I beg to differ. I have had the privilege of knowing many heroes in my lifetime, and experience tells me this assumption is wrong. Heroes dont always come in the package one might expect. They can be ordinary, extraordinary, or somewhere in between. Not all heroes are alike, and their differences do not detract from their value or status as a hero.

Heroes come in all shapes and sizes. Kuririn, my dad's best friend, is small in stature, but if you measured him in courage, Ive no doubt hed be ten feet tall. Often times he admits to being afraid, and it's clear that he is. Even so, that never stops him. He fights for what he believes in, no matter how scared he is or how outmatched he feels, and I think that is what makes him one of the bravest heroes of all.

Another thing about heroes – they don't have to be perfect. My father's rival Vegeta, for instance, used to be downright evil. He wrought chaos and destruction without showing any signs of mercy or remorse. However, don't be so quick to judge him; there is more to him that his past actions. He has softened over the years. He would probably hit me for saying this and die himself before admitting it, but he's nowhere as ruthless as he was when I first met him. He has saved my life a few times, and I have even seen him cry. Even if his actions are not always the most noble, I still consider him a hero.

How could I write about heroes without mentioning Piccolo, my mentor and best friend? He is another example of evil-turned-good. Before I was born, he was known as the great Demon King, but he, too, has changed. He blames it on the influence of my father and me, especially the time he spent training me, but I like to think that he had it in him all along. Piccolo still tries to hide it beneath his gruff exterior, but I know better. He has a soft side, too, and hidden underneath it all is the heart of a hero.

Speaking of hidden heroes, I believe my mother deserves to be mentioned. She has never fought a life-or-death battle or risked everything for a cause. She's just an ordinary woman who loves her family. However, that does not make her any less amazing. Her strength inspires me every day. All she ever asked for was a normal family, and what she got wasn't quite what she had in mind. Being married to my father must have been tough. He was off fighting battles so much that the two of them were unable to see each other nearly as often as they would have liked. At one point circumstances kept them apart for nearly three years straight, with the exception of one month, during which my dad was in the hospital. My mother did not know that she was pregnant when Dad died, but she remained strong and raised my little brother and I to the best of her ability with very little help from anyone. For that, she, too, is a hero.

Perhaps the greatest hero of them all, though, is my father. From an objective point of view, it might seem unfair of me to say so, but if you had ever met him, you might be inclined to say the same thing. There was just something about his presence that made you know that everything would be all right. He died seven years ago, but to this day I am proud to call him "father." He saved so many lives, and he was so pure and innocent. A tad oblivious, yes, but that's just part of who he was. He gave so much, even his life. More than anything I want to make him proud. I want to be strong like him. I wish that he could still be here, but he's not, and that's okay. He lived his life as a hero. I can only hope that in my lifetime I make half as much of a difference as he did.

Heroes come in many different varieties, big or small, foreign or familiar, hidden or in the limelight. Each day we are surrounded by them. They may be larger than life, complete with superpowers, or they may be the most ordinary of people, unassuming and supposedly nothing special. We don't always notice their presence, but they are there. And when we finally do notice them, it is then we see just how lucky we really are.


Gohan set down his pen and read what he had written. He sighed. Yep, that was it. The truth. And that was the way he was going to leave it, hotel paper and all, consequences be damned. He couldn't bring himself to write anything else. Just this once he would make an exception and stop hiding in a shell. It was the least he could do.


As the teacher sat at her desk grading papers, one essay in particular caught her eye. It was written by hand on hotel stationary. Which of her students had been careless enough to turn something in like that? She picked it up and read the name. "Son Gohan." Interesting. Wasn't that the new transfer student? Peculiar boy, and this paper only heightened that impression. She leaned back and read the essay. As she did so, a tear came to her eye unsolicited. It wasn't the most powerful or the most poetic, and to be honest, she had expected something a little more academic from this rumored prodigy; but somehow she knew that, unlike the dozens of essays she had read before, this one truly came straight from the heart. Maybe it was the fact that it was written in loose script on hotel paper; maybe that made it feel more raw. But somehow the teacher knew, and the honesty of it touched her. It was real, and she couldn't have asked for anything more.


Authors Note (10/2010): In the re-editing process, I decided to take the opportunity to present this story as it was intended to be viewed – all in one piece. It was meant to be a one-shot rather than a two-parter; I was just a little impatient at the time of its original publication. I revised the intro of Gohans essay and added a few sentences to the teachers part at the end because, lets face it, if I were the teacher of this kid who scored perfect marks on all of his entrance exams, Id expect something a little more academic, too.

This has consistently been one of my most popular fics. Initially I was surprised because I tend to shy away from high-school-era Gohan, but to the readers and reviewers: Thank you so much for your support! It really makes my day.