2 of ?
AN: Yes, Serry2, that was a bad word in Saiyan, not an oopsie on my part, and no, this is not a Gohan and Videl story – I personally think he can do MUCH better than her (certainly can't do much worse).
AN2: Oh, and for future reference, the series has pretty much ended here – no Buu, Saiyaman, any of that.
(Orange Star Junior High)
"So, I see Bulma somehow managed to get you into this too, Vegeta?" Kakarot's brat was smirking at him, looking comfortable in the loose black button-up over-shirt shirt and blue jeans he was wearing, and for an instant he wanted to blast the brat into HFIL, but then he'd be alone against both the Harpy and the Onna … so the brat had to stay.
"That is Mr. Briefs to you, Spawn of Kakarot." Gohan arched his eyebrow at the Prince ('of two other people') as he walked away and shrugged even as he made his way to the front office, backpack slung over one shoulder. Kids milled around the halls, all of their battle powers being so low they barely registered in his mind, with one or two exceptions – one was a girl dressed in bike pants and a long white shirt, her black hair in pig-tails and her blue eyes showing supreme confidence in her abilities, something that bordered on arrogance. Another was the guy next to her, his blonde hair own to his shoulders and his arms exposed as he chatted with her, obviously trying to impress her even as his eyes wandered around to anything female.
The one that caught his eye, though, was the slim blonde that was just next to them, her eyes a mystery even as she adjusted her cropped top – her features were fine, if slightly angular, her hair cut short on the sides and left long on top, and her eyes as blue as the skies and filled with both an innocent nature and an intelligence that was carefully hidden. He noticed that her muscle tone was refined, more toned than bulky, like a swimmer's or a dancer's, but with the way that she looked around, she obviously had some contact and training with the martial arts, which is why he approached her and asked, "Excuse me, but where is the office? I'm new here."
She smiled brightly at him, the innocent nature in her eyes coming forward even as the two next to her glowered slightly, "Hi, it's down there, two doors on the left." She pointed and he nodded, "I'm Erasa, this is Sharpener," the blonde boy eyed him coolly and nodded, "and this is Videl, daughter of Hercule."
Gohan looked at the pig-tailed girl for a second before he shrugged, "My sympathies."
Videl glared at him, "What's that supposed to mean? My father saved us all from Cell!"
"So?"
"So? He's a great warrior!"
Gohan snorted, "No, he's not – I've seen his primping and posturing and he wouldn't know a real warrior if one came up and beat him into a bloody paste." He turned, ignoring the outraged squeak from Videl, and smiled at Erasa, who was smiling slightly, "Thank you, Erasa-san."
"You're welcomed … who are you?"
Gohan chuckled, rubbing his hand on the back of his head, "Sorry, I'm Gohan, Son Gohan."
Erasa's eyes bugged out, "Son? As in … Son Goku?"
Gohan's eyes went slightly flat, "Yes."
Erasa apparently saw this and nodded, "He's supposed to have been the best."
Videl chipped in, "Until my father showed up."
Gohan glared at her, his own version of Vegeta's glare of 'Slow and Painful Death', and the girl blanched, stumbling back into Sharpener, who looked a little pale as well, "Trust me, Videl, that your father's supposed skill would surpass my father's only if Goku were on a respirator and in a Delta-level coma."
Videl glared back at him, though somewhat weakly, "So he's going to show up for the World Martial Arts Tournament, then?"
"The dead have their own schedule," he snapped at her, doing his best to control his temper.
"I'm sorry." He looked at Erasa, who looked sad, "I'm sorry your dad died."
Gohan nodded, feeling his ire lessening, "Thank you, but let me just say that my relationship with my father was never the best." The bell took that moment to ring and he bowed to Erasa, "Thank you again, Erasa-san – maybe we'll see each other later on."
She nodded happily as Videl and Sharpener left, "Okay, Gohan. Later."
Several minutes passed as they walked to class until Videl growled, "Just who does he think he is? My father is the best there is."
"Of course he is, Videl," Sharpener said, soothing her injured ego as best as he could. He, of course, wouldn't say that the kid was right, that Son Goku's skill would probably never be surpassed, but he didn't want to be on the receiving end of her anger at this point of the day.
Videl nodded as they entered the classroom, a short, ebony-flame-like haired man writing his name on the blackboard, "I mean, yeah, I know that Son Goku won the WMAT once and is the youngest to ever compete in it, but that doesn't make him better than my father."
Erasa chipped in at that point, "But, Videl, your dad also hasn't been training anywhere near as long as Goku did, or had the kind of training he did." Videl shot her a glare, but Erasa wasn't cowed in the slightest, "The Turtle Hermit turned him away, saying that he couldn't learn the techniques and even The Demon Lord and the Bandit both said he'd never amount to more than a pro wrestler with a few martial arts classes under his belt."
Videl snorted, "Yeah, I remember, and they were all touting the praises of both Goku and this one other guy; if I ever meet this guy, I'll bust him in the nose and show him just what a real martial artist is!"
"That will have to wait, seito (student)," the teacher said in a slightly gruff voice as he turned back around. As before, he was short, but she could see the muscle mass beneath the arms of his jacket as he spoke, "I am your teacher for the year and you will refer to me as either Sensei or Mr. Briefs. Yes," he cut everyone off, "my wife is Bulma, yes, we have children, and NO you cannot visit Capsule Corporation."
Vegeta looked at the mass of young faces and repressed a grin – this was going to be fun, "Now, as I said, I am going to be your teacher this year, and we are going to learn all about this pathetic mudball everyone calls a planet-" His words were stopped as the door opened, "Yes, what is it?"
"New student, Mr. Briefs," said one of the office women that had been fawning over him from the second he had walked in. She wasn't exactly hard on the eyes, but he was also married, so he had merely smiled – she led in Gohan, "This is Son Gohan, and he will be joining this class block."
"Hi, Gohan!" He looked up at the small blonde girl who called out Gohan's name with a wave, one that Gohan returned, and he grinned slightly – the Harpy would like to hear about this.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the first spawn of Kakarot."
Gohan looked at Vegeta and grinned slightly, "Well, well, well, if it isn't his Royal Shortness, the Prince of Two Other People." Vegeta smirked at him as he walked in more and the annoying office woman left – honestly, if she tried to pinch his cheeks one more time she'd be sent to HFIL on a first-class ticket.
"Introduce yourself, brat, and take a seat next to the blonde seito that called to you." Yeah, he could tell Vegeta was going to have fun with this and tell his mother – oh well, maybe Bulma wanted to know just WHY all of her 'food' ended up being destroyed?
"Very well, I am Son Gohan, I've been home-schooled up to this point and, for some reason, my mother believed that my attending this school would somehow benefit me." Several of the students smirked at this, a few more nodded in sympathy, but the rest merely looked blank, "I have also been trained in the martial and killing arts since I was four, as Vegeta can attest to." With that, he walked up the stairs to the next to the top row, ignoring the looks he was getting from both Sharpener and Videl, and sat down next to Erasa, who smiled at him brightly, "Hello again, Erasa."
She smiled at him some more, "So, you're a martial artist?"
He shrugged, "Depends on your definition of what a martial artist is – in my family, I am a warrior."
Videl snorted and muttered, "Same difference."
Apparently, though, that wasn't quiet enough as Vegeta snorted, "No, Miss Satan, it is NOT the same difference – a martial artist, you know it, is someone who has been trained to spar and can defend themselves adequately. A WARRIOR is someone who has been trained to FIGHT to the death, their own if necessary, and someone who dedicates their life to mastering not only their own style, but learning the styles of others." Vegeta looked up at him and grinned slightly, "Gohan, there, is in fact a Warrior, though his mother is loathe to admit it – your father is merely what passes for a martial artist these days."
Gohan glared at Vegeta slightly, resolving himself to telling Bulma several of Vegeta's secrets to get even with him, but Erasa pulled him out of the glare by asking, "Have you ever killed anyone?"
"Yes." The room went from almost-silent whispers and mutterings to dead silence in a fraction of a second as Gohan answered – Vegeta knew that the boy did not like talking about the things he had done, but if he was answering, so be it, "I've killed in defense of myself and my family, I've killed in the midst of battle madness, and I've gotten someone killed because of my own arrogance."
Vegeta could hear the tone of sickness in Gohan's voice so he spoke up before anyone else could, "Now, on with class – we are here to learn history, so open your books to …"
(Later)
History with Vegeta had been a snap, as had his math and Science courses, and now lunch was over (honestly, you think that the other students had seen someone eat before – the fact that he'd cleared a 'small', by Saiyan standards, meal away had shut everyone up for some reason), so he was off to his English course. Admittedly, he wasn't a linguist, and he wasn't sure why he was being forced to take English, but the fact remained that he had been told to take it, so he would.
At lunch, he'd sat alone at first, but Erasa had walked over and sat with him, much to the apparent annoyance to both Sharpener and Videl, and Gohan found that he was starting to like the talkative young blonde – she'd talked about any and everything under the sun, she had a healthy apatite and had not once blinked at the amount of food he was packing away. In class, she had helped him out with just what it was that the teachers were trying to teach them and had, quietly to everyone else but normally to him, answered the questions before most of the other students – he figured that the 'dumb blonde' act was just that, an act, but he wasn't going to call him on it any more than she had asked him about his training.
Of course, that didn't stop anyone else in the class from asking how, who, where, when and why he had done the things he had done – he, of course, gave them vague answers as to some of them, but when asked about his teachers, he only responded that he knew who they were and they liked their privacy. This had not endeared him to many of the other students, but, quite frankly, he wasn't at school to make friends (despite what his mother said).
"So, Gohan, tell me about where you're from."
He smiled at Erasa slightly, "I'm from the 429 Mountain District, grew up on a piece of my grandfather's land."
She blinked at him, "That's, like, five hundred miles away, isn't it?"
He nodded, "Indeed."
She shrugged, "Okay. So, do you have a girlfriend?"
He chuckled slightly, "I can count the number of girls I know and could call a 'friend' on one hand that are my own age, Erasa. No, no girlfriends." She gave him a look at the words 'my own age' and he went into explanation, "Mom and dad liked their privacy, so most of the people I grew up with were at least 15 years older than me at any given point in time."
"Ahh," Erasa said with a tone of sympathy in her voice. "I know how you feel – before Sharpener and Videl, I never really had too many friends my own age. In fact, aside from my mother and my aunt, there wasn't much of anyone else." She took her seat next to him and didn't look up from her hands, "Half of the time I feel like both Sharpener and Videl only let me stick around them because I'm the cute blonde airhead, but the rest of the time I think they only tolerate me."
Gohan felt oddly angered as he tentatively reached over and lightly patted Erasa on the shoulder, "I … I don't know what to say, Erasa."
She gave him a little smile but then her face scrunched up into one of pain as something slammed down on her hand, "OW!"
"NO TALKING IN MY CLASS!" Gohan looked up to see the mustached teacher holding what looked like a riding crop in his hand, one that he was hauling back again. Inside, he felt his anger flare – this teacher had just hurt Erasa and was about to do it again.
Erasa cradled her hand as she looked up into the face of the teacher, his crop descending again towards her, but then, as if by magic, the crop stopped – the man's eyes bugged out as she saw a hand wrapped around his wrist, in a manner that looked somewhat painful, and she followed that hand back to Gohan's arm. She looked up at his face and almost wet herself – his eyes were flat, completely without emotion, and he looked like he was holding the man's arm with contemptuous ease.
"Let go of me, boy!"
"Shut up and you may get to keep your arm." Gohan's tone was glacial as he appeared to squeeze slightly, a motion that brought a slight crack from the man's wrist and a grunt of pain from him, "You hit her – why?"
She watched the teacher, Mr. Shuu, jerk his hand as if to free it, but it would not budge, "Let me go or I'll have you – ARGH!" His threat was cut off again as Gohan squeezed a little more, "What kind of freak are you?"
"One who is more powerful than you'll ever be, baka." Erasa looked over and saw Mr. Briefs standing in the doorway, his face also a flat mask, "And one who, if I tell him to, will end your sorry life."
"But then the pain stops, Vegeta," Gohan pointed out, a smirk on his lips that, for some reason, made Erasa's heart beat a little faster. "I asked you a question – why?"
"She was talking in class!" Mr. Shuu's wrist crackled a little more and he dropped the riding crop, "Mr. Briefs! Help me!"
"Let him go, Gohan – this is a matter between teachers." She watched as Mr. Briefs walked over and, with the same ease that Gohan used, lifted Mr. Shuu up off of the ground and dragged him away from the classroom.
Silence reigned for several minutes as Gohan sat back down and calmly read his book, but that silence was broken by Erasa, "How did you do that?"
He gave her a look that asked 'do what?' and she asked, "How did you hold him there? He's an adult."
"One who barely works out and has little or no muscle mass." She blinked as he took off his black button-up shirt and revealed a white t-shirt that held a very yummy amount of muscle, of HARD muscle, "I'm not the same."
She poked his bicep first and then his pectoral, feeling a blush creep up on her cheeks, "How … how did you get these?"
He pulled his shirt back on, puzzled by why her cheeks were red, "It's called working out. I train about four hours a day."
She blinked at him several times but said nothing as Mr. Briefs walked back in and spoke, "Mr. Shuu will not be rejoining this class – he's had an attack of … conscience."
Gohan, she saw, smirked and growled out, "Isk tar rhakta porqurath, meh Vegeta?"
Mr. Briefs, for his part, only smirked back and growled, "Grath pak toklna, bretha do Kakarot." (AN: For those among you whom do not speak or read Saiya-go, here's a translation – Gohan: 'What, you left him alive, Vegeta?' Vegeta: 'Death ends the pain, Spawn of Kakarot.') Mr. Briefs then looked at the class, "Read pages 3 through 15, quietly." With that, he left the room and, not wanting to annoy him, everyone did as told … except Erasa. She just stared at Gohan the entire time, an act he seemed completely oblivious to.
AN: I think I'll stop this chapter here – next chapter, a little Gohan torture. Reviews, please.
