The Horse with No Name


Chapter Three

Little Brother


Brother…

Gohan recoils from the man.

"W-woah, too close," he says, slipping left and under Lord Rixas' arm, stumbling sideways and nearly over a heap of books piled high.

The lord turns and watches him with that ever hungry gaze.

"I know it's you," Lord Rixas then says, only narrowly missing Gohan's arm by millimetres. He follows the teenager past a row of bookcases and over to a nearby window. Somehow they've ended up at least four or five stories high above the forest. "Brother, I know it's you. I'm not stupid."

"Look, you've got the wrong idea," Gohan replies. "I just woke up here –in this place- and I want to go home back to Earth. You know it, right?"

The lord halts, downright confused. "Earth?"

"Planet Earth," he tries. The captain had known it. "You're important, right, er, sir? I just want to get home and back to my family-"

Lord Rixas' face twists almost comically. The passionate gold about his eyes dims into something easier to pallet and he breathes out a laugh, one wrought with nerves. "Oh my God, what did you just call me? Sir?"

Gohan blanches. "Is that rude? Shoul-"

"Brother -Mori," Lord Rixas interrupts, "what are you saying? Earth? I… you… just where have you been? We thought you were d-"

"No, no! I'm Gohan!" He bats his hands. "My name is Gohan and I'm from Earth."

Another hand grabs at the teenager's, mid-flap.

"Brother," Lord Rixas repeats with a heavy look. He pushes forward, forcing Gohan further and further back against the window. "Little brother… you're alive."

Painfully uncomfortable, Gohan presses firm against the window frame, eying up the possible escape route of greenery in the distance. He'll fly if he has to. With how intensely this weirdo is looking at him it might just escalate into something more.

"I'm really sorry; there's been some kind of mistake here. I'm not this Mori guy," he attempts cordially as he tries to pull his hand back. Lord Rixas doesn't even flinch. "My name is Gohan. I'm from planet Ear-"

"Ehh, what are you talking about? Mori, we have your mask. How did you-"

Gohan tugs harder against the grasp. "I'm not your brother!"

When Lord Rixas reaches out for his face, Gohan withdraws with such force that he feels something in his wrist crack. He hisses and is only finally released after another firm jolt, one which plummets him hard against the window itself, and hard enough for it to smash. Gohan falls through before the lord can even react. Glass flies everywhere as golden eyes watch in shock as the teenager descends, widening ever more as Gohan struggles to summon his ki.

The image of the lord becomes smaller and smaller as Gohan drops. The young man tries to call upon his energy. He attempts to fly, to catch his footing, but finds that his ki is, yet again, not cooperating. Just as a flicker starts to emerge, Gohan feels something hard hit the back of his head.

He blacks out.


Age 780

(Six years later)

Orange Star High School, Satan City, Earth

"This is the third time, Mr Son, that I've had you in my office this week. I feel like I'm seeing you more than I see my own wife these days." The Principle pushes up his glasses as he stares at the raggedy teenager from the other side of his desk. He waves a piece of paper about with dramatic flair. "According to this, you drew a very realistic drawing of Miss Staples on the blackboard; one where she was… nude."

"That's not right," off-hands the teenager, casually slouching in, what he sees as, his chair. "She's totally wearing a coconut bikini set. I have some class, sir."

The Principle slams the paper down, coughing. "Goten Son! Blatant disrespect in this school is not tolerated. Miss Staples should not have to be worried about how you're going to cause havoc in her classroom week after week. Your attitude is atrocious and your grades aren't much better! Coconut bikini or not, you do not use school-funded materials to draw anything you fancy where ever you like. Would you behave like this at home?"

Goten wilts, retorting under his breath; "which one?"

The Principle pauses, flashing Goten the sickening look of sympathy he gets whenever it comes to calling his parents. Goten doesn't get it. It's not a big deal. Really, it isn't.

He sinks lower into the chair, arms crossed and lip pulled upwards.

"If you're gonna' call one then call my dad," he then instructs, digging his hand deep into a thick set of spikes. They could hardly be called spikes now as they spill over and are nearly long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail. No doubt the school will bitch at him about that too.

"Call your dad? After last time I think we'll try your mother."

Goten groans.

"Not my mum, please. I'll take the detentions, the clean-up duties, anything."

But the number has already been dialled and the phone now neatly presses besides the Principle's chubby cheek. "Perhaps you should have thought about this before –ah, hello, yes, is this Mrs Son? Ah, ah, hello, yes, this is Principal Wargrove. Sorry to be interrupting your day but we have Gote—yes, again." A look is spared upwards at the teenager, one received with a scowl and awkward shuffle. "That's right. Yes, yes."

Goten rubs his face, groaning. God, they may as well just be friends with how much they yammer on the phone every time. As the chunky, idiotic principle relays Goten's misdeeds, he allows himself to sulk and slightly regret his actions if only for being caught. One of the girls in his class must have ratted him out again. He's not exactly the most popular with them as Trunks now must have dated nearly half of the class by now; making most of them turn on Goten like he's the one that discarded them after a week. Pah…

Being best friends with a playboy isn't exactly what it's cracked up to be.

He thinks this as he notices a mop of lavender-coloured hair bob behind the glass of the office's door. Goten snorts. Trunks is going to have a front row seat to his best friend's slaughter.

Yet, it doesn't come.

The phone hangs up and the Principle looks visibly disappointed.

"Your mother can't come," he says sourly as Goten mentally thanks his luckiest stars. "But she's sending a family friend to take you home."

"A family friend?"

The Principle grumbles, coughing to clear his throat again. Clearly a smoker. "Yes. Consider yourself lucky for now, but she sounds equally as frustrated as we are, Goten. Just when are you going to grow out of these juvenile pranks?"

Goten lolls his head back, already clocking out as the long-winded speech about maturity and schooling is rabbled at him. He nearly falls asleep. Only when the Principle's chair scrapes out does Goten jolt to his senses.

"You've got some growing up to do, young man," he says simply, standing. His bespectacled gaze turns over to where Trunks is hiding. The purple blip seems to have gone unnoticed however, as the Principal's attention is now focused on the new individual entering the room.

Goten turns too, before swivelling back around and covering his face, mortified.

The person strides past Goten and his cherry-coloured cheeks and straight over to the Principle. They shake hands. "I was covering a case a block over so Mrs Son asked me to come over."

"Miss Satan, wow! It really has been a long time!" the sad, old dolt for a Principle gushes as he jumps in glee. What a geezer. "I haven't seen you since your graduation."

"Yeah, it's been a long time," Videl replies, "the school hasn't changed much. It's a shame we have to meet under these," she angles a pointed look at Goten, "circumstances."

To his credit, Goten does appear red-faced and ashamed. Calling Videl from work was a dirty move on his mother's part.

"No bother, no bother," the Principal brushes over. It's so blatantly obvious he's star-stuck; disgusting considering Videl used to be a student here herself. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, that's alright," she says, folding her arms and tapping her fingers over her blazer. She's still in her work clothes so she really must have just dashed out of whatever office she'd just been in. It's the only time Goten sees her in a skirt, as her law office has a strict dress-to-intimidate attitude Videl loathes to abide by. She's still new at the firm so she's trying not to ruffle any feathers just yet; something which Goten knows must absolutely be killing her.

Yet, here Videl Satan is in all her glory, bare-legged and four inches taller in heels. Goten does not disapprove.

He watches on as the Principle and Videl exchange sickly-sweet pleasantries, trying not to barf as she actually signs a yearbook for him. They joke, laugh and reminisce. The entire display is enough to make Goten nauseous.

"Okay, I best get this menace home," she finally announces. Her hand slaps lightly at the back of his head, signalling that it's time to make their great escape. Her smile is forced. She probably hates being here about as much as he does. "I'm sure his mother has a lot she wants to say to him."

"Of course, though I'm sorry to have to drag you away from work. It must be very taxing to work in law."

"It'll be worth it in the end." She shoves at Goten's shoulders to hurry him along, before then addressing him with a harsh whisper. "Your better half is still outside. I think he's worried that your mum was going to come in a murder you where you stand. Count yourself lucky that it's me and not her."

"Yeah, yeah," he says, trying to swallow a laugh as he lets her push him through the door.

"Do feel free to drop by, Miss Satan," calls the Principal in a disgustingly sickly sweet voice. God, he's probably her biggest fan or something. "It would be wonderful for you to give a speech to the stud-"

"Yeah, okay, thanks for everything. I'll make sure he gets home. Bye!"

The door slams shut behind them and Videl breathes a long sigh. Her gaze turns murderous.

"I hate coming here," she growls once she knows the creepy old fart can't hear them. Trunks, who has come from out of hiding, laughs quietly as Videl clip-clops down the hallway in those pretty heels of hers.

They follow submissively in her steed. Goten spots Trunks looking at her inappropriately and gives him a hard shove.

She whisks around.

"Why do you keep pulling stuff like this, Goten?" she demands of him, "you're going to make your mum go into cardiac arrest one of these days. Are your little pranks worth five minutes of laughter from your friends but hours' worth of headaches for the rest of us?"

Trunks has his back. "He drew a picture. Chill out, Videl. I'd get it if he'd stink-bombed the cafeteria again-"

Goten barks a laugh.

His friend ignores him. "Or if he streaked in class again, or spiked the teachers' coffee-"

"Nah man, that was you."

Trunks' brows shoot up. "It was?"

Videl groans. "Seriously, guys. Is it so hard not to just keep your head down and do your work?"

"I get straight As," Trunks informs with a painfully smug smirk. The entire thing strikes Goten of Vegeta.

Ugh. It's annoying. Goten doesn't know how he does it all. Trunks never studies. Never. He's always out with different girls, hanging out with the kids in his class, or causing mayhem with Goten, but never does he have to deal with the crap Goten has to endure, and never has he ever seen the smug ass pick up a book.

"Don't look salty, Goten," Trunks goads. God, if Videl wasn't here he'd plant his face into the floor. "Your biggest problem is that you got caught."

"No," Videl admonishes, "his biggest problem is that he did it in the first place. I had to leave mid-meeting to come over here."

Goten suspects that Videl isn't actually that angry about having to leave; knowing very well how much she hates the bureaucracy of her job.

Regardless, he knows he should apologize. "I'm sorry. I didn't think my mum would send you to come get me."

She scoffs. "Yeah, well, here I am."

Goten can tell she's not really being grumpy. She's trying not to smile the entire way to her jetcopter. When he gets in Goten makes sure not to slam the door like her normally does, and Trunks does the same.

"I'm not taking both of you," Videl says from the pilot's seat.

Trunks leans back against the leather, slimy. "Don't be like that. Are you really gonna' make me fly?"

"You say it like it's a chore…" she grumbles as she turns the key. Goten watches her eyes darken in a flicker as she seems to recall something, something Goten can only guess to be a time when she, too, could fly… Videl hasn't been able to fly for years now.

She jolts her shoulders, pepping herself up, and presses a button on the dashboard. The beast roars to life, and with a single glance back at Goten's cheeky best friend, Videl stares into Trunks' unwavering gaze.

A battle of will commences.

Eventually, she sighs, knowing a lost battle when she sees one. "Fine, I'll take you too but don't tell your mum that I let you leave school early."

Trunks laughs. "Pah, she won't care."

Videl shakes her head, dismayed as she pulls at the steering wheel. They hover into the sky smoothly. "You're both spoilt brats, you know?"

Trunks leans up, almost manic in his amusement. "Coming from you?! Are you hearing this, Goten?"

Goten only hums, daring to go against neither of them. They're both forces to be reckoned with. Should he even say a whisper against Videl then he knows for sure that he'd be the one kicked out of this hunk of metal, forced to fly in the searing summer heat. Yeah, no thanks.

The jetcopter climbs higher and higher until the school and city become mere speckles in a sea of grey bellow.

Most of the journey is blanketed in a comfortable silence. Trunks seems content messaging whatever ABC girl he's trying to sweet talk and Videl's eyes are firmly glued to the flight path. Maybe a little too firmly now that Goten thinks about it. There's a sharp crease between those usually bright blue eyes of hers. She's clearly concentrating on something unsaid. Goten watches, a little lost in how she manoeuvres her fingers across the many buttons and switches on the dashboard.

She eventually flicks a switch, one which fills the vehicle with the loud shredding of guitars, and throat-ripping screaming. Goten bursts out laughing when Trunks drops his phone from the shock.

"What the hell, Videl?!" Trunks bellows over the noise.

She can't hear him as she sings along with what Goten thinks barely constitutes as music.

Trunks, in retaliation, kicks Goten's schoolbag into the back of the pilot's chair. A one finger salute is offered in return.

Goten laughs and laughs as Videl screams along with the music up until the moment they land. When she turns off the engine she's laughing too. It suits her. It really suits her.

"You're a shit driver and a worse singer," Trunks snipes as he drags his ass out of the jetcopter.

He's probably only moody because he couldn't find his phone again until they'd landed, and Videl takes zero pity as she pretends to cry on his behalf. Trunks flips her off as he throws his own bag over his shoulder.

"Absolutely no respect, you little punk!" Videl calls after him, but she's smiling all the same. Goten turns when she catches him staring. A hand reaches up and ruffles his hair. Yes, up, he's taller than her –not that would stop her from beating down on him. "And you. You need to go kiss your mother's ass for the next hour before dinner. I don't want to deal with her being in a bad mood tonight."

Goten bats at her hand. "You're staying for dinner?"

"Didn't your mum tell you? We planned it last week."

"No!"

"Wow, look at it all making sense to why it was me to come and get you from school. C'mon, kiddo, I don't want to hang around the entryway all day. This place makes me uneasy."

Kiddo…

Goten frowns.

With hands shoved into his pockets, he follows her down the gravelly walkway. This is the closest Videl is authorized to park to their home, something which makes her trips to their neck of the woods even rarer than before they'd moved. The occasional and sporadic fires are also a huge off-put to visitors, including Videl who'd once lost a previous jetcopter to the flames.

Goten scratches at the back of his head, sighing.

They don't call it Fire Mountain for nothing…

The entryway boasts a grand archway that they have to walk through each time they want to enter the kingdom. Goten moved here with his mother only three years ago but it feels like he's been there forever. Guards are posted everywhere and scrutinize his every coming and going, allowing Goten zero privacy. He can't even count how many times he's had falling outs with them over breaking curfew. What the heck is it to them if Goten wants to come back after dark?

Yes, the guards surrounding the Ox Kingdom are annoying to say the least. However, it's the swooping walls around the city which makes feel Goten the most trapped. It's a no-fly zone for all; including him, jetcopters and planes alike.

His grandpa had once told him it's because the residents are a superstitious bunch, and that they don't like outsiders too much, trusting no-one not in their circle and having very little respect for the powers outside of their small world. No wonder the kids at Goten's school think he's in a cult.

"How you do this daily I have no idea," Videl sighs as she signs her name in the guestbook. The guard station is filled with sour-looking attendants. They don't even smile at him –the grandson of their bleeding king!

"You too," grunts one guard, pointing his ball-point pen at Trunks.

"I'm here, like, all the time!"

"You too."

Trunks snatches the pen. "Christ. Relentless, you lot, aren't you? Here. I've signed your friggin' book."

Goten awkwardly nods his head to the collection of security. In perfect unison, they all frown in an impressive chain reaction.

"Lovely," Videl comments, discarding her own pen. She doesn't bother collecting it from the floor when it misses the table. "C'mon, let's go. God forbid they smile at us and make us feel welcome."

"I hate this place," Trunks complains, banging open the gate leading into the main courtyard.

It's a place barren of any greenery, with torches of fire ensnaring the open yard in a circle of foreboding orange. Dismal greys and browns of the building are occasionally infiltrated with the daring surprise of flowers, but mostly it's just the dourness of brimstone and concrete which greets him each and every day after school.

Except for weekends and alternating Wednesdays.

The huge castle is oddly depressing compared to the rest of the kingdom. Goten knows that outside the strict grounds the people live in quaint, modest homes surrounded by the wild of the countryside. He goes there sometimes to eat at the restaurants. Now that his mother cooks less due to an overbearing chef, Goten struggles to find a decent meal these days.

Some of the servants gawkily lower their heads at him, and Goten knows it must kill them to do so. They've hated him since the moment they moved into this prison.

The group finally makes it up to the foyer of the castle after tackling the long staircase. And right at the main door, his mother waits for him, looking absolutely livid.

"Goten Son," she seethes, "this is the fifth call this month. Why are you so desperate to shame this family any further?"

Goten goes to open his mouth but Trunks gives him a swift gut punch, silencing him.

His mother advances upon him so fast that Goten's sure that she must be secretly a super saiyan too. A finger stabs into his chest before he's even recovered from Trunks deft assault. "You listen here, young man, if I so much as hear another whisper from your school before the semester is out then I'll make sure you never look at another screen again until you're eighteen. None of that social media stuff, no emailing friends or calling girls-"

Trunks snorts back a laugh.

Girls? Goten can practically hear his best friend question.

His mother sends Trunks one of her darker looks too, one which makes him recoil ever so slightly behind Videl; the coward.

"I'm going to tell your father not to let you use your phone this weekend," she continues briskly, not even sparing a second for breath. Her face is red, nearly purple. "I'm going to tell him to break it and to hide the pieces, and to not let you out of his sight even just the once!"

The reception is crap out there anyway but he's not about to tell her that.

"And I don't care what you say, you're going to train with your father!"

Goten jumps at that. "What? No! No, I don't wanna'!"

"See it as your punishment," she huffs, colour slowly fading from her face. Goten's patent dread is somehow easing the dragon's wrath.

In the background, he knows Trunks is trying his best not to laugh. Yeah, it's funny to him right now because it's Goten being forced to train. If it was him then Goten would have to listen to the guy bitch, bitch, bitch all day long. Vegeta is equally as obsessed with training as his dad, and equally as obsessed with dragging his kid into it.

"Urghh, I hate it," Goten complains, scratching the back of his head.

"I don't care," she snaps, "maybe this'll teach you not to cause havoc at school."

"It won't be so bad," Videl then chimes in, taking off her blazer. It's hung up in its usual spot by the door. "When was the last time you even trained with Goku?"

Goten grumbles, shrugging. Usually when he goes to his dad's he just hangs about the house as his dad goes out and beats up boulders or whatever he does when he trains.

"I hope it is that bad," his mum goes on to say, hands on hips. "I hope you dislike every minute of it just so it teaches you a lesson. The more I hear from your school then the more I'll make sure your father knocks some sense into you."

"How's that fair?"

"Well, you can take it up with him. He's coming to dinner tonight so I'll get to tell him what a delinquent you've become."

He scoffs in her face. "Yeah, if he comes."

The reaction is immediate. "Goten Son!"

"Right, right, I'm sorry. Look, can I go drop my stuff off in my room now?"

His mother growls and he takes that as his chance to leave, ignoring the stream of shouting following him up a set of stairs leading to his room. Trunks loyally follows, head low. Goten hears his mother's fury even after he slams the door closed.

"Oh, she's getting soft," Trunks comments. He wastes no time in flopping down hard on the king size bed. Pillows bounce up in reaction.

Goten sheds his backpack and starts changing out of his school clothes. A top is whisked off. "You call that getting soft?"

"Dude, she's sending you to your dad's."

He grunts, throwing the top at Trunks' stupid head. "Because she knows how much I hate it."

"It's not that bad. You get to do what you want. Your dad doesn't care at all about the school stuff. He'll probably find the drawing thing from today really funny."

"Which would be fine if I didn't have to spend all my time at the Mausoleum."

Trunks snorts, "I guess."

The Mausoleum is what both he and Trunks call the old Son family house because it's basically just that. It's a tomb of memories and good times. The place remains unchanged, except for the build-up of mess his dad can't stay on top off. A cleaner goes round every Tuesday to help out (courteous of Bulma) but otherwise there's little in the way of development there. Goten's childhood room is the same, the kitchen is the same, the living room is also the same… But it now feels empty. People are missing. New memories can't be born there. It's flat, dead. The happy occasions there had been buried long ago along with…

Goten grits his teeth, brows heavily pointed. He grabs a fresh jersey and jeans.

"Dad won't even come tonight," Goten growls as he snags up his jeans. He nearly topples over the skew of mess on the carpet, and a clutter of pens and sketch books go flying. The contents of his desk also take a fall. "You know, he never visits. I don't know why she bothers."

Goten hears Trunks from his lounging spot on the bed as he collects his belongings from the floor. "I dunno'. Free food…"

The Son teenager picks up an entanglement of wires and earphones, chuckling.

Yes, some things never change.

He then picks up an old, dusty picture frame. A gust of breath leaves him, sending the prickles of grey floating about the room.

Four smiling faces from the picture stare back.

Some things do however.


Dinner could have been a difficult affair but it's not. His mother seems to have forgiven Goten's earlier transgressions… for now at least, and is attempting to make polite conversation with him. She asks about his club activities and he gets to lie and tell her how much the Science Club has improved his studies. For one, Goten is failing Science, and two, he never joined Science Club, instead opting for the Fine Arts program. Should his mother find out then Goten knows that he'll be utterly screwed.

He watches Trunks smirk into the next bite of his meal when Goten fabricates an experiment they did last week. There's an elaborate explanation involving wild hand gestures and re-enactments. "So yeah," he finishes lamely, "that's… that's about it, really."

"Wow," Videl says flatly, clearly not swallowing his shit, "they didn't have clubs like this when I went there."

"Things change," Trunks says around a mouthful of food, waving his chopsticks around. "Some people say that the school is on the up, you know?"

"No… I don't."

Goten coughs. "Yeah, well, so basically, Mum, the experiment was a success and uh… my hypmofithus-"

"Hypothesis," Trunks corrects.

"Yeah -that- was right in the end."

There's a beat of silence at the table and Goten's faced with an audience of different reactions. Trunks is smugly poking at a lump of rice as he tries not to make direct eye-contact with Goten. Videl has the emptiest stare Goten's ever seen. And his mother?

"Oh, my baby is going to be a scientist. I can feel it!" Her hands clap together as her eyes positively sparkle. The grievances of today seem to have gone forgotten completely as her face glows with pride. After all these years Goten knows exactly what she wants to hear.

Trunks feeds it. "Oh, a scientist. Golly."

"I'd pay to see that," Videl also adds after another mouthful.

His mother doesn't catch the dryness of either of them, salivating over the very unlikely dream of Goten becoming a scholar. In turn, he finishes his eighth bowl of egg noodles and adds it to the stack as he stares yonder the four walls of the room. Beyond the bowls he looks at the door left ajar. It leads out of the dining room and into the hallway where another guest was expected to turn up ten minutes ago.

Goten catches his mother looking too. He won't say anything. He's above that.

Another bowl of noodles is taken.

"And how are you doing, Videl? How's work?" asks Mum. She leans over the table, still riding the high of Goten's story. "You're working over at Orange & Co, aren't you? I saw it on the television yesterday. They say it's a really prestigious law firm!"

"Er, ah, yes!" she responds. Her cheeks are quick to turn rosy, and her eyes cast down at the mountain of food that she'd been served earlier. "My friend –a college friend- helped me secure a place. His uncle runs it, and he's interning there too so we're kind of in it together."

"Oh, that's nice, although I'm sure your father's connections would have been more than enough to get you any position you wanted."

Absolutely no tact as usual, Mum.

Videl doesn't seem at all fazed. "It's nice to do it through my own networking," she off-hands, "and even though it's strict there I feel like there's so much I can learn from the guys at Orange & Co. They've worked a lot with the local council and police so it's kind of ideal for me to get my foot in the door there."

His mother beams. "Well, I for one think it's excellent that you've got your eyes on the prize, Videl! You worked hard all through school and now it's paying off. You should be very proud of yourself."

God, why do her words feel so pointed? Hmm… whoever could she be making a dig at?

Goten glares as he slurps his noodles.

Trunks spares his food from his onslaught for a brief moment. "Do you get murder cases?"

"No, just petty crimes. I'm shadowing really."

And then he goes back to his food, attention lost. Goten's is not, however.

"Do you wah murdurh ca'es?"

"Swallow your food, Goten," his mother chides.

He gulps down the oily blandness of today's meal. "Do you want murder cases?"

"No, if I'm being honest. I want to deal with cases surrounding-"

"Let me guess," Trunks interrupts, scraping his plate clean, "you want to help inner city kids. You want to help the impoverished youth?"

Videl bristles. "Yeah, and so what if I do?"

"You're such a stereotype, Videl."

His mother feels no shame in berating him too. "Trunks!"

"It's true," he chuckles, and then reaches for another heaping of rice. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing, jeez."

"It's beautiful," breathes Mum, still sharply focused on his best friend. Trunks does best to keep his head low. "And it's noble. Helping people is exactly what G…"

She pauses.

All three pairs of eyes turn and pinpoint on his mother. He goes to reach for her hand but she's quick to pull away, smiling. A faint pat against his fingers is offered. "Well, it would have been."

They all exchange glances before slowly returning to their meal. Goten's appetite dies the moment he looks back down at the sludge of food. The slick sheen of oil almost reflects his pulled lips right back at him.

"Actually," Videl comments next, tone thin, uncertain. "Whilst we're on an uncomfortable topic I think I should say what I need to say, well, what I've needed to tell you guys for a while actually."

Goten gives her his full attention, leaning over the mahogany and scraps of food. Her twisting face contorts as she wrestles her next words out. They seem to lodge in her throat.

"What is it, dear?"

Even Trunks looks interested.

Videl grimaces, tugging hard at the end of her plaited hair. "I… uh…"

He recalls her looking anxious back in the jetcopter. Is this what it had been all about? What has she come to say?

"Okay, Satan, just say it," she instructs. The blues of dazzling, fierce eyes reinforce into their usual diamond-hardness and she finally addresses them, addresses his mother most of all. "Chi-Chi, I'm seeing someone."

What?

Goten's mouth drops, and he becomes so still that his limbs may have just turned to stone. It's Trunks' rare and open concern that brings him back to reality.

Finally, Mum also regains herself. She dabs at her lips with grace befitting a princess. Her face gives nothing away but they can all sense it. "S-seeing someone?"

"Y-yes," Videl replies, probably louder than intended.

"Oh…"

Oh…

His chest hurts a bit. Why does his chest hurt?

"And!"

Videl stands. The scraping of her chair echoes about the cold room. Paintings of the Ox Kings of the past watch down with their disconcerted gazes.

"And we're engaged."


Age 774

(Six years previous)

?

Everything is quiet ...until it isn't. Roaring of machines, mechanical beeping, multiple people speaking all blend together in a frustrating concoction that makes Gohan's head spin. At first he thinks that Goten must have turned the TV up to max volume again, or Dad is getting an ear-full from Mother. Only when someone starts shouting right beside him in a language he can't place does he know something is off.

Gingerly, he opens his eyes and is taken blind by the brightness. He winces, turning his head. What's going on? Where is he? Is this his room? Just why is it so bright? When his eyes adjust he realises fairly quickly that he's not snug at home in bed, and the comforts of his room suddenly seem a million miles away.

The room is a clinical white, at least from what he can see. Glossy silver curtains have been draped around Gohan's bed, only allowing for a small fraction of the room to be seen. From what he can see, there's a strange computer beside him, offering that trying beeping he can still hear. The rhythm is smooth, reminding Gohan very much so of a heart monitor. Perhaps it is one as he can spot the many wires dangling from his form. They pierce into his skin and into his veins.

Is this a hospital? Is he sick?

He opens his mouth to ask for his mother but only manages a croak.

Gohan feels horribly worn out. His body feels like he'd been smacked around after a very rigorous training session with his dad.

Trying his voice once more, he finds it crusty as he battles a cough.

"Where..." ...am I?

The curtain hitches left, revealing a dark-skinned man in a long white coat. His face is stern and unrecognizable, offering little reaction other than mild surprise at Gohan's being conscious.

"You're awake," he announces, voice heavy with an accent Gohan does not recognize. His expression is impassive, shrewd even, making the teenager feel automatically on the defensive. He shuffles under the thin sheet as the man draws closer. "How unexpected."

"Where…am…"

The man acknowledges him only briefly before busying himself with the computer. He taps at the flat surface in front of a monitor with rapt fingers. To Gohan it looks like he's just hitting the desk but it must be doing something because he can hear the man hum under his breath as he regards the screen. The shine from the monitor winks at Gohan.

"Hmm… Your energy waves finally seem to be balancing out which is a moderate relief. Fluctuation can be quite dangerous with readings quite as high as yours if I do say so myself, sir."

Sir?

"Do you feel weak? Fatigued possibly?" asks the man in white, not bothering to hold his breath for Gohan's reply. "That's normal. We had to administer sedative when the spiking of energy started to affect the power in the hospital. Your brother authorized it, of course."

The teenager's brows crinkle.

Goten?

"He has not long left, actually," continues the man who Gohan suspects to be a doctor of some kind. He's wearing thin surgical gloves and a plastic apron under his coat, and several polished utensils poke silver heads from out of the , the guy did just say something about a hospital…

Gohan reaches upwards, wires dangling from his arm, as he cradles his forehead. When he tries sitting up the probable doctor pushes him right back down.

"You're also suffering from a concussion."

Huh, that explains the ringing in Gohan's ears, and his fuzzy memories. Just what had he been doing before this? Had he been out training with his dad or Piccolo? But that doesn't make sense he then thinks. They'd just take him to Dende to be healed if something had happened there.

He shudders at another though; school –had something happened at school?

"What…" The teenager croaks. Gosh, his head hurts. "What hospital is this?"

The doctor folds his arms, drumming his pastel-blue cladded fingers along the white. He deliberates, switching his attention between the computer and Gohan, making the teenager feel all the more self-conscious.

"This is the Spire Infirmary," he eventually tells Gohan. His words are slow. "You've been resting here for several days now after Lord Rixas brought you in."

"Lord… who?"

The doctor removes the gloves. There's an elastic snap. "Ah yes, I almost forgot, he did mention of this strange amnesia of yours. Stay still. I'm going to check your vision for abnormalities. Any blurriness? Sensitivity to light perhaps?"

Gohan's natural reaction is to co-operate and behave like a good patient, yet it all rings strange to him, and so he pulls away from the doctor and the medical equipment being thrust in front of his face. He coughs from the movement.

"It only magnifies," the doctor informs as he swivels the glassy object. "I just want to check your pupils."

"Where's this Spire place? I don't understand, er, Doctor. Was I in an accident? My dad –is he…"

"Curious, so very curious," breathes the doctor. The magnifying glass retreats into his breast pocket, nestling just under the crest of a horse's silhouette.

Then it hits him.

He remembers the captain, and her matching crest; one which sat atop her breast plate. He remembers the forest, the tree, his ki –oh God, his ki- and he remembers that lord guy…

"Lord Rixas," Gohan manages, feeling weightier for even mentioning the name. The frog in his throat threatens him, rasping.

The doctor doesn't react as expected. His tone is flat. "Are you remembering something?"

"I woke up here… in this world… and there was this tree… it attacked me."

Again, there's very little in the way of a reaction. "A tree you say? That's rather queer even for this realm. I can't say I've ever heard of a savage tree roaming about the grounds."

"It did something to my ki!"

"Your ki, you say?"

"I couldn't control it aft-" Another cough then takes him, this time deep and hollow.

"Hmm… I see. Well, don't over exert yourself. Your-"

There's a screeching as the curtain is dragged sideways, silvery fabric flapping madly as another looming figure is revealed. The cool ivory lighting from behind shines so brightly that it makes Gohan want to get up and punch out each individual offending bulb. He hisses, hiding behind his hands as the bulldozing force of nature blunders into the space.

When the man starts to speak does Gohan realise how quietly the doctor had been speaking, most likely for Gohan's benefit, for the next string of words are practically ear-splitting.

"Mori!" wails the newcomer, one easily identified as the previously met Lord Rixas. He wastes no time in lumbering over to the bed and snatching at Gohan's arm. "You're awake."

"Lord Rixas," the doctor greets. It's respectful but an underlying annoyance goes unsaid.

"You gave me a hell of a fright," Lord Rixas goes on. His eyes dazzle in their golden glory. "When you hit your head… wow, I've never seen one person bleed so much."

"Well, that's a lie if I ever heard one," scoffs the doctor, "seeing as I see you in my care every other week."

Lord Rixas blanks him; his eyes only for Gohan. "Do you remember me now? Has it come back? This guy over here said it might… Uwahh, Mori, why are you looking at me like that? You look like you've got nothing rattling about up there." He turns back to the doctor with a rabid look twinkling about his expression. "Doc, does he have brain damage?"

I don't have brain damage!

"I don't believe so, sir. His brain wave patterns were consistent with his previous records."

"Then why is he looking at me that that?"

"Mori," Gohan parrots, tone low. Lord Rixas swivels back to him with an almost hopeful look. It falls flat moments later. "I'm not this guy… You've got your wires crossed or something. I've told you already, my name is Gohan."

Lord Rixas sighs and combs his fingers through blonde scruffy hair. "Tch! Really, not this again!"

Gohan goes to say something again but the doctor lays out a hand and turns to the loud and, if Gohan's being honest, obnoxious young man.

"Let's not stress my patient out any further, my lord-"

"Daaaamn," he breathes as he slouches beside Gohan's stretched legs. He gives the right foot a light smack. "What the hell happened to you, Mori?"

I'm not Mori!

"This isn't Earth, right? I need to- arghh." Gohan just manages to keep the fire submerged in his throat. The more he talks the more it burns.

The doctor clicks his tongue, lightly ushering Gohan back against the plush of his pillow. "That'll be the energy-suppressants at work. They can cause a touch of heartburn I'm afraid."

Lord Rixas furrows his brow, "you're drugging him?"

My thoughts exactly!

"Precautionary," continues the doctor, "your brother signed off on it."

Brother? Another one?

If the young lord didn't look worried before he does now. He speaks slowly and deliberately. "Quell's been here?"

"Of course, my lord."

Lord Rixas thumps at Gohan's feet again. "How annoying. He didn't even stop by to speak with me."

"He wasn't here long," the doctor goes on to say. "He simply checked over Lord Mori and left on business."

"Cold bastard," Lord Rixas says not without amusement.

The bird's nest on his head bounces as his wide, wolfish grin softens into something easier for Gohan to recognize. The lord then turns to him with such a deep, penetrating stare which makes the teenager want to haul the sheets up and over his head. The gold is molten and so intensely warm.

"I'm so happy you're alive, little brother."

It hurts Gohan's chest. God. He kind of wishes that he is this guy's brother just so he doesn't have to let him down. The scene reminds him of Goten, reminds him of the moments leading up to a waterworks show where it would take ages for Gohan to try and sort the little monster out. Once, after stepping on a family of snails Goten had cried and cried for hours and nothing Gohan did could console him. He's a sweet kid –maybe a little too sweet.

These tears would usually start with a wobbly lip and pink, puffed cheeks.

The teenager surveys the lord's face and feels himself pale.

Oh.

Oh no.

Thick droplets have begun to rain down from this stranger's face, splashing down onto Gohan's covers.

Oh God, he is crying!

Gohan doesn't know what to do. Tissues. He needs tissues! He turns to the doctor to see that he's magically made himself absent.

"Err…"

"Ah, damn." Lord Rixas wipes his eyes on the back of his sleeve. "I promised Quell I wouldn't but, ah, shit."

Gohan's heart really does hurt. This guy is sobbing and it just has to be Gohan here instead of this guy's brother –who's probably most likely dead.

He has to try again, to try and make this poor guy see some sense. "Mistake... there's a mistake," he manages. Instead of the pain in his throat worsening, it actually seems to be easing. Gohan's unkindly reminded of the wires attached to him when he attempts to pull forward.

"You've hurt your head," Lord Rixas shakily tells him as he gives another affectionate pat on the leg. Those bold eyes haze over momentarily. "God, I'm so happy, Mori," a snort, "fuck, you're an idiot. I can't believe you -ugh. If you weren't strapped to all these machines-"

"I'm not Mori!" Gohan growls. Sympathetic or not, there's only so long that this can go on. "I told you already. I'm from Earth! I don't know you or this Mori guy. I'm really sorry, okay? But I'm not your dead brother –I'm just a human, er, saiyan, humansaiyan- and I just really want to get home because I'm sure my family must be really worried –and, and- please will you stop crying?!"

The sniffling lord purses his lips, looking more akin to a kicked puppy than the inhumane bundle of strength Gohan had witnessed last time. Lord Rixas opens his mouth only to close it again. His fingers twirl around the silky fabric of the teenager's cover, and Gohan feels himself tense up further than he already is.

"…Mori, what's an Earth?"

A beat of dead silence passes until a dry laugh escapes Gohan as he brushes his hands through his hair.

What a mess.

It's at this time that Lord Rixas stands. What a soppy mess he's turned out to be. So much for being a big, scary lord of whatever. The curtain parts for him and Gohan hears the echo of boots hitting against the floor from the other side. The sound draws from further and further way until;

"...You really did give yourself fucking brain damage..."

And then he hears nothing.

He tries following after Lord Rixas. Guilt niggles at him. The poor guy is clearly delusional –he just wants his brother back, and Gohan just totally shot him down. Ugh, he feels just awful.

But then, the mild panic starts to set in. He didn't like the look in Lord Rixas' eyes; both the haunting gaze and the… warmth. The memory of the ki ball from that decrepit building hangs thickly in his mind.

It had been the lord's energy, energy which didn't feel hostile whatsoever, it almost felt inviting, cosy; warm after a long day in the snow. It felt like home.

Gohan swallows thickly.

It's a misunderstanding. It's a misunderstanding. It's a misunderstanding.

Surely, his dad is only moments away from bursting into the hospital room and laughing at the whole scenario. Gohan would feel embarrassed all the way home, but he would manage to crack a smile at dinner about it. Yeah, that all sounds about right.

Gohan breathes. He just has to wait.

A short time later, the same doctor from earlier returns with several other, what Gohan assumes to be, doctors in tow. They all have a nervous glow about them as they lurk near the curtain.

"Don't mind them, sir." The doctor waves a hand airily. "Your brother requested field specialists be present."

My brother? Gohan furrowed his brows. Goten? Why wou... No. They think I'm someone else, don't they? Stupid Gohan.

"There's been a mistake," Gohan tries again, hoping for a better result this time. The doctor doesn't seem as thick-headed as Lord Rixas. Maybe he'll actually listen.

"What mistake is that?" he asks softly, head tilted like he's dealing with a child.

"I'm not this Mori... My name is Gohan, and I'm from planet Earth, and, uh, I, um, you've clearly made a mistake, and..."

Gohan's words die on his tongue as the patronizing expression on the doctor's face doesn't falter.

The doctor hums and smiles almost sweetly. Gohan is alerted to the other doctors taking note in the background via their obnoxious scribbling.

"Are they bothering you? I can ask them to stand behind the curtain if you'd like."

Some of the other doctors offer him the same sweet smile the first doctor gave.

He doesn't like any of this.

"Where am I?" he pushes, "someone said something to me about the Almigthy…"

"You're at the Spire, sir."

Gohan grits his teeth. "I know that! What planet are we on? Is it the Almighty? Something like the Kai's world? Some of those doctors are definitely not human; I think one's even a Namekian."

Said Namekian jumps a little and leans back towards the curtain. Ignorant, the doctor leans in. "Tell me more about these huu-man."

"Argh…" His hand swipes down his face. "You've made a mistake," Gohan repeats again, his voice rising to a shout. His body is still betraying him and offers little energy to move. This is ridiculous! Where the heck is he? "Tell me where I am! I'm not this Mori guy. I don't know who you people are! I'm from planet Earth, and I have no idea where your friend is –but it's not me! Just tell me what I need to know so I can actually be on my way home!"

A few of the doctors disappear behind the curtain, pale-faced, but the first doctor doesn't look fazed by Gohan's growing frustration. In fact, he takes a seat next to Gohan in an ivory, expensive-looking armchair. The notebook the doctor had been clutching is now placed neatly on the floor.

"It's come to light that even before your tumble out of a window, you've somhow experienced a severe case of memory loss," the doctor says with flippancy expected of discussing the weather. "From my in-detail discussions with both Lord Rixas and his captain I've been able to establish that this alter personality of yours seems to have lived a full life of its own before making its return to the Almighty. Do tell, just how old are you? I can't say that I'm familiar with your beloved planet Earth but I'll try my best. You're a huu-man, correct?"

"I, uh, er," Gohan's eyes lingers between the first doctor and remaining doctors in the room. This is all completely ludicrous. Just what the heck is this guy talking about? "Uh, yes, well, half. I'm also half saiyan."

Finally, the doctor offers a reaction. His eyes widen, and he turns and says something in a foreign language to one of the other doctors. The other doctor replies briskly and jots more notes down.

"Gohan," the doctor says, looking as though he's betraying his own tongue by uttering it. "Tell me some more about yourself. Do you have a family?"

Gohan grunts. "I'm not saying another thing until you tell me more about where I am."

Eyebrows lift ever so lightly. "Oh, so you do have one then? Saiyan father or mother? Surely that little information cannot bring any harm. You seem like the wary sort, maybe you've faced persecution before. Perhaps under Frieza?"

Gohan's voice hitches in his throat. "He's dead."

"Well, now he is, of course."

More scribbling sounds out louder than ever and Gohan can't help the frustrated glare he shoots at the other doctors, some of who physically recoil.

The first doctor sighs and peers over his shoulder. He proceeds to tell them something using that foreign language from moments ago. Authority ingrains into his words and one by one, the other doctors leave through the silver sheet.

"You've never liked an audience," the doctor grumbles, curling his fingers around his thinning grey hair, "I have no idea what to tell your brother when he asks why the specialists he requested were marched out like schoolboys."

Gohan swallows and stares. A moment passes in silence. "Look, doctor… I'm sorry for becoming agitated but there really has been a mix up here. I don't know what happened. The last thing I remember is going to bed on Earth, and that there was going to be an interesting lesson in history class in the morning. Then I woke up here. I'm not Mori, I'm sorry, I really am, but I'm just not him."

The doctor's eyes don't leave his. "Tell me, Gohan, how old are you?"

"Huh?"

"Surely that can't be damning information."

"I'm seventeen."

For the first time the doctor cracks a real smile, one of amusement. "That doesn't mean much to me I'm afraid. Do you know how old that is in standardised universal years?"

What the heck is that? He's never heard of it. "In... in what?"

The wrinkles by his eyes became more pronounced as his smile widens. "Are you a boy or a man?"

Gohan blanches. "I'm sorry?! I'm still at school if that's what you're asking! B-but I wouldn't say that I'm a b-"

"Somewhere between a boy and a man then?" The doctor hums. "Quite fascinating. Gohan, tell me about your appearance. Describe yourself."

"Errr..." He blanks, and eyes up the far wall as though an image of himself is going miraculously face back at him. Gohan scratches his chin and wracks his brain –he's not very keen on talking about himself. "I, um, have black hair and eyes. I guess I'm kind of tall, sometimes I wear glasses when I read."

The doctor is still for a moment before up and disappearing through the curtain. He returns just a quick as he'd left. Gohan's mouth goes dry when he sees what the doctor is holding.

Surely... not.

Before Gohan had chance to protest the mirror rises and blasts Gohan with a heck of a surprise.

His gasp catches in his throat.

Gohan's tired, pale face stares back at him. There's nothing different there. However now there are two very new additions to his features.

My eyes...

A dazzling radiance of gold gleams back at him so brightly that Gohan feels the need to look away. Instantly, he recognizes them as the two piercing spheres of gold he'd just seen weep for him. These are the eyes of Lord Rixas. These are the eyes of someone who's not Gohan Son.

They glow brilliantly like a cat in the night.

They shine like gold itself.

They… they can't be right.

The doctor lowers the mirror. The gold in the reflection sets like the evening sun.

"They're the eyes of a god, my lord."


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So if you've read my other fic then you'd know that I never do* multi-POV chapters so this is kind of a new one for me. Let's see how we get on. We're going to be following different times so keep an eye on the title for the segments! I hope you've enjoyed my take on Goten. I barely got to write him in my other fic so I'm really excited to be going forward with him as a leading character on our journey -and what a journey it's gonna' be!

Thanks for the lovely reviews on the last chapter, and thanks for all the follows and favs. Please do let me know what you think of this story going forward. This chapter was a pretty hefty boy!