The Horse with No Name


Chapter Nine

The Elephant in the Room


Age 780

Mount Paozu, Earth

It hadn't been Goten's intention to return to The Mausoleum after storming out last weekend, but by Monday morning he'd come to discover something rather frustrating. His Maths book had somehow gone missing. He'd searched through his bag, around his bedroom at Fire Mountain, and in his locker about five times. So when all came up empty, Goten concedes that a week of his mother's nagging and detention isn't worth avoiding the Son house. He knows that's where he last had it, and so straight after school, he takes to the skies in the long flight back to 439 Mountain Area to look for his blasted arithmetic homework.

The journey would have probably been unbearable if not for two things. One, Goten knows that his dad would certainly not be home during the day. And two, the companionship.

Two pairs of trainers touch down in front of the old Son family home.

"Man, the garden looks like a jungle," Trunks comments upon noticing the lawn's rebellion. "I can't even see a pathway to the house."

He's right. The dense concoction of grass reaches Goten's midsection now. Goten would have blasted it clean already if not for spotting a small army of hedgehogs sleeping in the bristles one morning. Still, he knows his mum would riot if she saw the state of the yard.

They make their way through the weeds, grunting and groaning. Goten hopes the squishy thing he'd just stood in isn't what he thinks it is.

Trunks groans. "Man, has your dad never heard of a strimmer?"

"I've never heard of a strimmer."

"It's to cut grass, dumbass."

"That's a lawnmower."

"They're two different things." His friend stumbles and there's a gagging sound. "Ugh maaan, something just crunched under my shoe. I felt it. I don't know what it was but it crunched. God, I hate the country."

Trying not to laugh, Goten fumbles around for his key when they do eventually reach the front door.

"Next time, we fly over that," Trunks insists.

It's an unnecessary thing to say if only because after today Goten doesn't plan on coming back. The door opens to reveal a familiar state of affairs. Blood splatters trail down the hallway and lumps of orange gis pile along the walls –dirty and used- as a stale stench fills the air. When they reach the kitchen Trunks physically recoils at the rolls of used bandages atop the table.

"I actually think it's worse than usual," Goten then says. His gaze flitters over the bags of rubbish stacked in the corner. How his dad had managed that over the course of two days is lost on him.

"Eugh, imagine if our dads were housemates," Trunks puts out there, disgusted. Between his finger and thumb he examines a questionable bag of rice. Goten swears he sees movement within. "Thank God mum doesn't let our place get like this. What happened to the cleaner? They quit again?"

"Wouldn't you quit?" Goten sighs, sparing the room one last glance. "This is so gross that even Videl refuses to come out this way anymore."

"No, she stopped coming because it takes her a million hours to fly here in her jetcopter."

"And, uh," Goten coughs, "I don't think she's keen on my dad."

Trunks hums. "I get it. He's… well, he's a lot, isn't he? Intense."

"Worse now than he used to be apparently, although Krillin said that he's always been one-track minded… I… uh, I don't really remember much of how he was before you know."

Trunks does know. His expression darkens.

"My dad said that all saiyans are driven by the urge to become stronger. Maybe when that happened it triggered something in your dad's head?"

Goten shrugs. He doubts it but who's he to say what goes on in his dad's head? "Whatever the case, Videl is right. My dad is going too far one way. He's… he's not right."

His friend pats him on the shoulder with a hearty slap. "The guy's still being eaten up by it. You can't let it get you too. Videl doesn't. Your mum's even getting better. Life goes on but your dad just didn't get that memo. Whilst you, your mum, Videl and her guy-friend have dinner next week, just know that you're actually living… and not just existing in this pit of a house."

Something about that sends a shockwave of discomfort through him. Goten pulls away with an unbearable urge to escape the kitchen. Even the bandages become too much to look at. "C'mon, let's go to my room. I don't want to hang around here longer than I have to."

"Your book is definitely not around this…" Trunks drops the rice, uncertain on how to proceed, "sty?"

Goten snorts and scratches at the back of his head. "If it is then it's dead to me."

So they go upstairs, avoiding various pitfalls of discarded obis and undershirts, and make their way to Goten's old room. Trunks is the nosey sort, that friend who always wants to stick his beak where it doesn't belong, so Goten has to drag him away from his dad's room when curiosity raises its head.

"Oh, c'mon, Goten, who knows what's in there?"

He angles them away and in the direction of his own room. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"I'd wager no disinfectant, that's for sure."

Actually, Goten had peaked a while ago and he'd found the reality calmingly boring. Whilst the rest of the house, spare the two other bedrooms, can be found in a varying quality of horror, his dad's bedroom always looked… the same. The bed had been made and his clothes had been either on the wooden chair beside the bed or in the wardrobe. Even the picture frames around the room had been dust free.

Odd… It'd been odd to say the least to see. And the few times after, he'd noticed that nothing had changed; no dirt build up, no anything. Dad always maintained that one room… well, that one and one other. Goten acknowledges the door next to his with lingering discomfort. Even the door handle remains shiny, as though it's the one thing in this blasted place which actually sees polish.

He surprises even himself when his fingers graze over the metallic coolness of it. Goten's not been in this room for a long time, maybe years now. It's the one space that feels truly foreign to him in this hole, making the idea of going in feel kind of naughty in its own way. Something which is strange considering only a thin wall separates this room and his own. A few inches of plaster and paint really does make all the difference, he supposes.

He could go in. He could. Goten's fingers tickle along the handle. Wouldn't this be goodbye?

"Er… I'll look in your room," Trunks squeaks, before disappearing behind Goten's door with impeccable speed, as if the room suctioned him in there itself.

And so, without further ado, Goten twists the knob and enters his brother's old room.

It's exactly as Goten remembers it. Two intimidating bookshelves packed to the brim (with literature far beyond him) towering over a neatly preserved desk, one harbouring not even a scrap of paper out of line. Assorted pens and pencils poke out from a pot sitting in the corner. Knowing no better, they lie, loyally waiting to be scribbled along whatever homework would happen to grace the desk.

And a lot of homework had graced that desk once upon a time. Goten can recall sitting on the modest bed in the corner and listening to the scratching of graphite along paper for hours on end.

Turning, he admires the white linen atop the bed with a brush of the fingers. It's been changed in the last time he'd seen this room –probably his mother's doing back when she used to live here. The covers before had been a light blue and patterned in a pale tartan… well, they had been until…

Until you died.

Goten forces his eyes closed, and a familiar throb pulses in his head as he tries not to dwell.

His brother is gone and that's that.

Yet his quiet personality practically screams of the presence, and Goten's reminded over and over again that his brother had been a person, had been alive and was an integral part of his life. How strange to think now years later that Goten had once not been an only child. His brother… his brother had been…

Goten breathes and sits on the bed.

Gohan had been a selfish idiot.

Really, in the end why does Goten still dwell so much on someone who carelessly ruined their entire family? His death marked something new for all of them, marked something new for Goten who'd only known his brother as his hero.

Gohan Son had been his hero, and now…

A knock sounds at the door, and bleary eyed, Goten watches in silence as his best friend enters the room. Trunks can't help but let his gaze drift to the empty space besides Goten's feet, the reserved area where they'd found the body.

"You doing okay?" Trunks asks tentatively. "You've been in here a while."

"Have I?" Goten swipes at his nose and blinks the tears away. For the amount of times Trunks has seen him cry it's still such a wonder why Goten feels any embarrassment at all.

"I… uh, I found your homework by the way." He awkwardly flashes his find in an abysmal sort of flourish. "So… whenever you're ready. We don't need to go now or anything-" he quickly adds when Goten goes to rise, "just, y'know, whatever."

"It's kinda' weird in here anyway."

"A bit," his friend agrees, but then takes a seat next to Goten in spite of it. "But it's probably better than the rest of the house. At least in here it doesn't stink of mouldy bandages."

Goten manages a laugh. "I think he'd hate it to be dirty in his room."

"I think he'd hate the house being a mess period. Your dad should stop being such a slob, or at least stop making the cleaners quit."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I bet he'd knock your dad upside the head and tell him to get the dustpan and brush."

Goten breathes a giggle. "No way, Gohan would just do it himself."

"You're right. He was far too nice a guy."

"I guess…"

A whistle draws out. "Oh man, that's a lot of books on those shelves." Trunks comments upon noticing the collection. He then sighs and sprawls back against the sheets. "I forgot how much of a nerd he was."

"He wasn't a nerd," Goten defends, and flops down besides his friend. Trunks snorts but doesn't argue back -which is even worse in Goten's books.

He then breathes out a long gust of air and stares up. The ceiling above is finally starting to show signs of damp, Goten notices, and he can't help but wonder how long it'll be until the room is lost to it. His dad won't know what to do, or won't care. In fact, if Goten was a betting man he'd wager that by the time Goten finishes high school his dad will have moved into his grandfather's hut.

The sooner this house goes the better.

Right?

"Hey, Goten?"

"Mm?"

"What… uh… what do you think Gohan would think about Videl getting… y'know-" Married.

Goten feels his gaze darken by several shades. "He'd hate it, obviously."

"Uh, yeah… Obviously." Trunks shuffles, and Goten just knows the guy must be dying to say something.

"What? What?"

"No, it's nothing."

"Trunks."

His friend sits up. "Would he though? I mean, Videl has been single since forever."

"As far as we know."

"As far as we know, sure, but like, shouldn't she finally start seeing other guys?"

"Are we really going to discuss this in my dead brother's room?"

Trunks pouts and shoves his hands into his pockets after climbing off of the bed. The sheets lay disorderly in his wake and it takes a lot for Goten to try and not immediately fix them.

"I think he'd hate it," Goten continues, "it's betrayal, right?"

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"It's been six years, man. You gotta' let go -you don't wanna' end up like your old man, right? Just holding onto stuff that's gone."

"Videl isn't gone," he snaps. The urge to neaten the bed overcomes him, and so he jumps up and fixes the bedding with a domestic urgency only rivalled by his mother. He tucks in the duvet, practically spitting. "She's still around. I see her more than I see my stupid dad these days." The cotton threatens to tear when he pulls at it. "So what? She'll get married to some mystery person and go on with her merry life?"

"Well, uh, yeah. That's it, I guess."

"She should be marrying my brother!"

"She can't marry him if he's six feet under, can she?"

Goten drops the fabric. "Trunks!"

"Well, it's true, right?" He huffs, and there's a beat of silence between them. Surprisingly, it takes very little time for Trunks to register that he went too far, and he says as much, but also; "he's not here now, Goten."

Goten nods and rubs the bridge of his nose. He knows that. God, does he ever.

"I'm glad the dragon balls don't work," he then chuckles humourlessly, "because if he was ever brought back I think I'd kill him. He's completely… fucked this family up. He's fucked me up."

"Goten…"

"No, he has." Goten has to sit down again. His legs feel like jelly. "I don't get it. I don't get why."

Trunks audibly swallows. "I don't know."

Finally, Goten's gaze trails over to that empty space on the floor –the place where the body had been discovered, the place that had to be cleaned so thoroughly that Goten could still smell bleach days later.

Goten never saw the blood, but he knew it must have been there.

I don't think… I don't think I can ever forgive him," he then spits. "Suicide is the most selfish thing you could do to anyone."

Trunks' hand brushes over his shoulder.

"I hate him," Goten then continues because it'd be impossible to stop now anyway, "I hate him so much yet I still…" His throat squeezes, snuffing out the words. "I miss him. I hate what he's done but I just want him home."

Trunks rubs his shoulder when the last of his resolve finally breaks. And when he sobs; ugly, wet things which wrangle his throat until it hurts, Trunks stays with him. He stays with him until Goten can't cry anymore.

They'd come for homework, but in the end they both leave with something far weightier than maths equations.


Age 780, (A couple days earlier)

Mount Paozu, Earth

My son did not commit suicide.

Goku Son tells himself this every day -every single day when he gets up and gets ready for another ritualistic training session. Naturally, the sentiment has pushed people away. There's evidence, they say. It's obvious, they say. But Goku knows his son. He knows Gohan wouldn't have done that. Gohan was stronger than that.

Which only leaves one conclusion; he'd been murdered.

And Goku is not about to let his son's murder go unresolved.

It's another sunny day, as is usually the case in August, and so Goku decides not to layer too many weighted clothes today. The humidity will tire him out enough as it is and he can't afford to overstrain his body. He always needs to be in tiptop shape.

When he leaves the house that morning it's not without the feeling of harbouring a heavy burden. Yesterday with Goten had been…

He cracks his neck, straining.

Well, it had been just really awful.

Goku hadn't meant to hurt Goten. Never in a million years would he dream of hurting his kids on purpose, not outside of training –not in the way that he'd hurt Goten at any rate. Jeez, he hadn't meant it to go like that. It's just… Goku knows that Goten can do more –he just needs pushing. It'd been exactly the same with Gohan. Sure, Gohan had been a touch more willing, especially when younger, but Goku knows Goten could be great. Goten's stubbornness aside, there's talent.

Still, Goku had apologized, had told Goten that he will try harder –be better, be more considerate, yet it hadn't been enough. And Goku knows how it'd looked when the Supreme Kai had dragged him away. Goku knows that he's, yet again, let down his second son.

But not as much as I've let you down, Gohan.

For such a long time Goku's had nightmares. It's always of the same thing, and is more of a flashback than a nightmare. It's always of Gohan, of finding him like he had, slumped on the floor, drenched in blood with eyes wide and unseeing. The blade had only been steps away from him, with prints of red in its trail as though you could see the path it'd taken when it must have been dropped. Goku tries to shake his son but his fingers pass through the body each time he reaches for him. When he calls his name Goku's voice is so hoarse that no sound comes out whatsoever. Cemented to the prison of his vision, Goku can only watch as Gohan bleeds out again and again and again…

There's no way. Gohan wouldn't have left him to see that –he wouldn't have chanced Goten seeing that. Gohan would have never committed suicide. No, Goku's sure of it, he's sure that there's not a chance in hell that Gohan would leave them willingly.

It's clear as day to him.

Gohan was killed.

Gohan was killed and I need to find out who did this. I need to find out who took away my son.

And whilst Goku is so absolutely sure of this he finds that he's actually rather lonely in his opinion. They're wrong, he thinks with resolution. Even with their strained expressions and baseless facts, Goku knows that Gohan would never have done this.

As Goku does every morning, he goes and visits Gohan's allocated space to pay his respects. It's under the shade of a humble oak where they'd decided to place Gohan's remains. He'd been cremated and then scattered around the trunk until the wind spread the ashes ever further. Goku remembers the day well. It'd been cold and so bitter that they'd needed to wrap Goten up so tightly that he'd resembled a bundle of laundry more than a child. Together, they'd watched as Gohan was laid to rest. He can't say it was a beautiful ceremony, or warm and full of love –Goku just remembers hurting and feeling so full of confused fury.

Still, it's peaceful here now. Flowers have even bloomed in the area around. So, Goku dubs this spot as Gohan's garden. They'd even allocated a small grave there for him.

"Good morning," he tells it cheerfully, "It's hot today too, huh?" He kneels beside the stone and gives it a fond pat. "I think we're due for some rain though. It's been getting hotter and hotter for weeks now. I think it'll do the forest some good, don't you?"

Gohan's grave remains as quiet as ever but Goku likes to imagine what Gohan would say –he likes to imagine that somewhere his son is okay, and that he'd speak with Goku if he could. He pauses, remembering his son's sunburnt face one July.

"…Though you never liked it too hot, I don't mind," Goku continues, "but it sure makes training difficult some days but that's just summer for you, I guess"

The sun gleams from the rim of the stone and Goku smiles. The carved inscription stands bold in contrast, dark and stark in eyesight.

Gohan Son

Always shining brightly

Forever a star

Goku didn't pick the words because if he did then he wouldn't have picked any words at all. He wouldn't have bothered with a grave either. He's glad Chi-Chi had insisted now. He'd been so angry and scared and full of frustration that he'd not really been of any use at the time.

Gohan had been the strongest person in the universe…

How did they do it?

How did they get you whilst you were sleeping, Gohan?

I don't understand!

The moment Goku had found Gohan like he had he'd transformed with such golden anguish that the house had nearly collapsed. He'd circled the area, shouting, screaming, hunting the person who'd dared do this to his son. In the end, he'd found no-one. There'd been no villain lurking, no evil hiding under their noses… there'd been no-one.

And that's when everyone decided it must have been suicide.

"I know you don't like hearing it, Goku," Bulma had said, "but all the facts point one way. The dragon balls didn't work, there'd been no-one else around, nobody had sensed anything… and… the wounds, they'd clearly been… self-inflicted."

Piccolo had agreed that Gohan would have never done that, for a while.

And then his tone changed too. "When the facts are in our face then who are we to ignore them? I refuse to be delusional. What Gohan did was selfish. He betrayed us all."

Goku had argued and argued, and Bulma had even involved a coroner.

"When a person takes their life through stabbing it's known for them to usually remove their clothes first," the coroner had informed. "Your son had been found bare-chested, right, Mr. Son?"

Even Krillin had turned against him in the end. "You need to accept it, Goku. Gohan… he… did it."

But Goku hadn't accepted it –still doesn't. Gohan would have never done this.

Why can't anyone else see this?

Gohan, you were the strongest. You…

A rapt urge to hit something takes him, but the only thing he could take it out on is the grave and Goku refuses to so much as chip it.

Instead, he breathes hard and forces a smile.

"…I-I saw a herd of deer yesterday. They didn't run when they saw me which is kinda' strange. I wonder if it's because they've never seen a person before."

Goku laughs shakily. "A bit like me. I don't see many people out here these days. Your brother comes, of course, and then there's Piccolo. Oh, and the Supreme Kai -he came too. He actually needs my help with something."

He waits, wondering. Gohan had worked with the Supreme Kai too.

"I'm gonna' help him 'cause that's the right thing to do. You get it, right?"

Of course you do. Goku smiles, but it's quick to die.

"…I've been training a whole lot, you know. As usual, the others think I'm overdoing it but I think you'd get it if you were in my shoes. I… uh… I think I upset your brother a bit with it all though. I think I pushed him too hard… maybe so hard that I pushed him away."

He waits for the reply.

"…He's just so strong, Gohan. Like you. I know he could be something great-"

The grave suddenly seems disapproving and Goku has to rebuke.

"Not that he isn't great! It's just –ahh, you know what I mean."

He sighs.

"I think he'll forgive me. I hope so, I mean. I know you would've…"

A new voice interrupts. "You're later than usual."

It's like gravel crunching through quiet air, an act which makes Goku flinch. Someone could be shouting down his ear and he'd be less surprised. Goku twists to see the stiff figure of Piccolo. The namekian is hunkered down in the shade, wrought with an impossibly sour expression and looking about ready to give Goku another bout of earache.

"We're not doing this here," Goku says, turning back to Gohan's garden.

Piccolo's tone tests his patience quickly. "I saw the boy fly off home."

"Goten," Goku presses, "Went home this morning, yes."

"Because of last night I assume."

And this morning.

Goku knows that he must have broken his son's heart, he knows because it had been written all over his face. Goku chose the Supreme Kai over his own son.

"He'll come back." He still faces the grave, and corrects a drooping flower when it flails. "Goten is a strong kid."

Piccolo scoffs and Goku feels his presence directly behind him.

"The Supreme Kai spoke to me too."

Goku hums.

"He said that you're going to help them."

"The Earth could be in danger. He said some mystery fighters have turned up around here. Of course I wanna' help."

"You think they could be linked to…" the namekian lowers his tone, "him."

He knows what Piccolo is referring to. He knows his friend is looking at the grave with his usual loathing, his usual disgust at it for even daring to exist. If Goku had disliked the idea of a grave then Piccolo had abhorred it.

Piccolo has never paid his respects, not even once.

And it kills the saiyan if only because he knows how much Gohan would be hurt by it.

"I don't know who these 'Zealites' the Supreme Kai is talking about are, but if they have any possible connection to Gohan's death then I'm gonna' look into it."

Goku turns and stands, moving away from the grave. Piccolo follows with aggravated steps, which is good because Goku doesn't want this kind of energy near Gohan's garden.

"This is getting ridiculous!" Piccolo snaps, "It was just last night that pushed Goten too far. You haven't learnt your lesson at all. When are you going to drop this ridiculous belief and stop chasing phantoms?"

"Not this again…"

"This again! This again because your thick skull clearly doesn't take in a thing I say! You're obsessed, Son!" the namekian hisses. "And finally it caught up with you last night. I've been telling you for years that even Goten will get sick of your nonsense. You nearly killed the boy."

Goku swallows, lowering his gaze. "I didn't mean to hurt him. And I already told him sorry. I just thought-"

"You thought he was Gohan," Piccolo spits as though ridding himself of a foul taste. The act makes something in Goku's stomach swirl angrily. "You thought he'd just put up with it, that he'd want to do everything he can to be strong like his father. Goten is not his brother, Goku."

"I know that."

"I imagine you do now. I can't imagine he'll be coming back anytime soon, can you?"

Goku's fists clench. "And what do you care, Piccolo? You've never been nice to him even once, not for years."

"At least I show him the mercy of not shoving my ideals down his throat."

"Goten is strong! If he trains then-"

"He doesn't want to, Goku! Not everyone has that same animalistic drive you and Vegeta have. Not Goten, not Trunks, and not even Gohan had it. The only difference is that Gohan put up with your incessant desire to get stronger for years – just to appease you. Goten doesn't have the patience to put up with your badgering. At least he has that sense!"

Goku wants to argue that Gohan had loved sparring with them. They'd cherished their time training together, even with Piccolo before he'd grown into the soured version of himself that he is today. But this is an argument for another time, one to be repeated as is usually the case on all matters Gohan. Instead, Goku says, "Goten'll come around. He'll forgive me."

Piccolo scoffs. "For nearly killing him? Maybe. For everything else? Well, who can say?"

What other stuff? Just what the heck is Piccolo getting at?

"I'm not going to tell you how to raise your kid, Son, but if you keep prioritizing everything else then you're going to end up a very sad and lonely person."

Goku clicks his tongue and scratches behind his head. "Is this because of the Supreme Kai stuff?"

"It's a contributing factor."

"I'm doing what's right for the Earth," Goku asserts, "who knows when it'll next be attacked?"

"No, you're just trying to keep the kais sweet." Piccolo jabs a claw-like finger into his chest. "You just want them to do some digging on Gohan."

"And what's wrong with that?"

Piccolo growls, swiping his hands across his puckered face. "There's nothing to dig!"

Goku has to bite his tongue. It's a bit of a new skill. Arguing every case against him has only hurt his relationships, and whilst Piccolo seems not to take sharpened words to heart he seems to be thinning his patience with Goku these days.

"Still," the saiyan eventually begins, "the Supreme Kai is worried. Don't you think we should be helping him? I thought you more than anyone would want to help the kais, Piccolo."

"Well, of course I do. But I don't need to do it with the pretence of being a Good Samaritan."

"Uh, right, fine." Goku doesn't want to argue. His tactic is to change the topic completely. He'd planned to train but if Piccolo isn't interested, which is the vibe Goku's currently getting, they may as well talk about what the Supreme Kai had spoken to them about. "Do you know anything about these Zealite guys?"

Piccolo breaks, looking torn between wanting to continue arguing or not. Eventually, "I know about as much as you do."

"Mm… So not much then. Think Vegeta knows anything?"

"I doubt it. These fighters are otherworldly from what the Supreme Kai had said to me. What did he say to you?"

"Just to keep an eye out, make sure that I'm not being trailed or whatever. He's gonna' come back and tell me more when he knows what's going on. He said that stuff up there is getting a bit crazy."

A snort of amusement from his friend surprises Goku. "How is it that Earth always manages to get pulled into these messes?"

Goku breathes out a laugh. "I used to think it was me…"

Piccolo actually smirks. "The day is young, maybe it is."

The saiyan offers an uneasy smile, and then turns back to the grave in the distance.

The smile fades.

I won't stop searching for the truth, Gohan.

You can count on me.


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Okay. One, Happy New Yeeeeeearr!

Two, Goku isn't nuts. He's not coo-coo bananas, I promise. He's just having a chit-chat with a grave. People do it. Bless him though, he's struggling in a world that just isn't on his side.

And three, yeah, sorry this one took a while to get out. It's a wee bit shorter than usual but any more and it would have just been empty words. Also, this chapter was really difficult to write. Between work, travel (I sprained my ankle on the Great Bloody Wall of China), and hospital trips (because of said sprain), it's been a bit hard to focus. I should also mention that I accidently smashed my computer too, haha. 2020's December was its grand finale for me, Christ!

I hope you had a good jollies. Thanks to all the reviewers out there, and of course to KaguriAsuha for being my #betaBAMF. Oh, and also thanks to a couple other authors on here who've helped me keep this fic going in a straight line. My fanfic ladies are top!

So yeah, In regards to pacing of this fic, it's not gonna' be fast. We'll get to Earth with Gohan, I'll say that much, but it won't be for a little while. If you want a faster fic then read my other one if you fancy it, Number 32. A lot of this month has also been me agonizing on how to speed it all up and uh, really, I just can't without it just feeling flat. There's a lot to cover.

Okay, sick. That's it from me. See you on the next one!