The Horse with No Name
Chapter Twenty-Two
Homely Revelations
Hold it together.
He breathes out.
Don't…
-And swallows the congestion blocking his throat.
Oh, God.
Mother wails –a rippling noise— howling profusely into his chest and squeezing his midsection with an impressive sum of strength. Much like it had been with Dad and Goten, it's proving difficult for Gohan to contain tears, but this time he's determined to be strong, to be the ultimate pillar for his beloved mother. She sobs and he holds her.
Over her shoulder, he spots Dad giving him a quirked thumbs-up, with Goten trailing behind much like a scared rabbit under duress.
"You're home," Mum hoarsely tells him. Her knees give out and he has to hold her up with feather-touch delicacy. "Y-You're here."
Her hands cup his cheeks. "I'm here, Mum."
"You're really here."
Gohan catches her as she wobbles. Her face has dipped white. "Maybe you should sit down."
"My baby," she whispers, refusing to move an inch. "My baby boy—"
"Dad, the smelling salts—"
"Uh, right!"
"Gohan," Mum says, sounding faraway, "Gohan. You're –You're—really…"
Her eyes roll back and her body grows limp but Goten had come ready with one of Grandpa's ugly dining room chairs. It's ample cushioning for her as Gohan sets her down gently. She slumps, thin and frail with hair dangling haphazardly from her bun as Gohan propels air in her direction. The hand wafts and he laughs, awkward.
"Well, that went better than expected."
Goten makes a face from the other side, also fanning. "Yeah, just wait until she wakes up again."
Mother nonsensically mumbles, twitching. If there's one thing Gohan hasn't missed, it's this. He recalls one particularly nasty childhood memory of her fainting and then hitting her head off of the kitchen counter. The blood had taken him hours to clean.
Thank God neither he nor Goten had inherited her low blood pressure. What a nightmare that would have been back up on the Lookout if Goten had fallen off from shock or something.
The sound of a door crashing open startles both of them.
"It is true!" declares a booming voice.
Gohan cranes a neck to see that his dad did not return with only the smelling salts.
"Grandpa!"
With Mum safe in Goten's care, he propels himself up and into the unbelievably enormous arms of his grandfather. Unashamedly, he's swung around like someone a third his age, tasting air. Bone crushing follows and the mystery of his mother's strength is understood when Gohan hears popping noises in his back.
"Gohan!" Grandpa cries, tears falling fat and plentiful. He liberates the air from Gohan's chest, roaring with joyous laughter. "My boy! I can't believe it! Goku did it!"
Gohan's not touching the ground, hanging limply as he's suffocated and swayed back in the direction of his father. "You really honest-to-God did it, Goku!" He blubbers, "You brought our Gohan home."
From the needle-thin gap Gohan's able to see through, he spots his dad offering a sheepish smile and scratching at the base of his neck as he always does.
"I knew you would," Grandpa says wetly, "I always knew you'd find a way. 'If anyone can, it'll be Goku' is what I told my Chi-Chi. That's exactly what I'd say, honest. And look! He's here, in my arms! Right here! Ho, ho, ho! Oh, I'm so happy—"
Gohan gags in the vice grip. Whilst his usual form doesn't need oxygen per say, the meat sack sure does.
Dad notices, eventually. "Um, Ox—"
"How we've missed you, Gohan! It hasn't been the same at all without you. We've been a fractured clan, a broken family. The entire population of Fire Mountain has grieved. But with you finally back home and safe, they're going to be… to be jubilant, ecstatic even! The first heir has returned! Oh my, we… we need to celebrate!"
Dad tries again. "Maybe you should—"
"I'll—I'll set up a ceremony. A party. We should have a party. Goku, you've got to call up the old gang and—"
Gohan slaps against the gargantuan chest. "Gr-Grampa! I gotta'… breathe!"
"Oh, I'm sorry!" The grasp loosens immediately. "Hyuh-Hyuh. I still don't know my own strength."
Upon regaining freedom, Gohan notices the stark grey in his grandfather's hair has grown pronounced, now soaking up nearly all the colour that was once there. The silver streaks liberally, infiltrating the beard in sporadic splotches as if to emphasize blooming liver spots along the cheeks. But otherwise, his good old grandpa still exudes an unusually youthful energy unbefitting a man his age. He's alive with vigour.
"You look great," Gohan tells him honestly.
"And you look exactly the same," sniffs Grandpa, presenting a raggedy old handkerchief. He dabs it at his watery nose.
Gohan breathes a laugh, unsure what he can say to that, because in reality, Gohan doesn't look the same. In his standard form, he's grown taller, only by a little but it's noticeable, and he's thicker too; not willowy as he had been before dying, but instead lean and more suited to his own skin. It's comfortable. It feels like him; the twenty-three year old him.
And not a teenager.
With being stuffed unceremoniously into this vessel, it has shown Gohan how the little changes in himself have mounted up. Even the way he styles his hair is different, in the fact that he styles it at all. And of course, there are his eyes –and his earring.
Oh, shit… his earring…
Gohan just hopes that that's somehow survived the transition otherwise he's going to be in a whole world of trouble.
An airy toned voice distracts him. "I—uh, what?"
Gohan turns to see the smelling salts doing their job. Dad waves them under Mother's nose as she stirs, her eyes hazy and unfocused. A pale hand takes Dad's without hesitation.
"Goku," she says, frail, upon noticing him, "I just… I just saw Gohan. He— I…"
"You're all good, Chi', I got ya'. Can you stand?"
"Y-Yes."
"Up you get, then."
It's a warm scene, and would be more heartfelt if Gohan hadn't learned the reality of the situation back on the Lookout this morning.
In his absence, his parents had separated. Separated.
Not divorced; which is at least something, but still, they're not together, something impossible for Gohan to wrap his head around. What'd happened? His mother worships his dad, or rather, she had, right? And for sure, there'd be no other woman for Dad. Why would they-? It doesn't make sense. They'd been perfect together, right?
Gohan had sat there, back on the Lookout's edge this morning. His dad had sat to his right, laying out every grizzly detail he'd somehow forgotten to earlier mention. Gohan'd felt embarrassingly sickened by it.
"What happened?" he'd asked.
Dad had looked wistful about the entire thing. He'd picked at a loose tile, unable to stare his son in the face as he relayed edited details of the separation. "It's not forever, I don't think," he'd said dismissively, "A few years ago, we'd just needed some time apart and so your mum went back to Fire Mountain and moved back in with your grandpa. Goten stays there mostly but he comes and goes to the house as he pleases."
"I don't understand. But you and Mum…"
"It just happened, I guess."
The revelation had floored him. Out of everything, this is the last thing he'd expected to happen.
"Is it because of me?"
"N-No! No! Well, I think…" He'd sighed. "Since your death, things got rocky between your mum and me. It kind'a got harder to ignore problems that made her, erm, us unhappy, and we just thought that if we do our own thing for a while then it might work out better in the long run. But, uh, yeah don't worry; it's not because of you, and, er, we'll probably sort things out any day now." But the following silence had told all. Dad has never been able to lie well.
Of course, Gohan's death had caused the rift. He'd committed fucking suicide.
I can't think of anything worse to put them through.
Mori; that bastard. Why did he—why did Gohan—Mori do this? He's… He's ruined everything!
After storming out of the dining area earlier after Trunks' less than subtle reveal, acting like the teenager he's much pretending to be, calming down had become near impossible. He'd been furious. The white-hot whiplash of bright anger had nearly caused him to combust this useless body into thousands of fleshy chunks. Imagine poor Dende's face when it'd start to rain Gohan over the Lookout.
The sardonic thought of self-mutilation oddly had not calmed him, somehow.
Nobody had bothered him for a long while, not even his dad. This had at least given him a moment alone and time enough to re-evaluate his cover story, especially now that he'd had to consider an apparent suicide he cannot recollect. But, oh boy, he hadn't doubted for a second that it had happened. Going out with a bang just seems to be Mori's style. Thankfully, the evil asshole had royally fucked up and was born anew. Gohan, whilst not perfect, is definitely leagues ahead in terms of being a better person, operating within a semblance of a moral code and not selfishly impacting others. Never would he have put his family through such a traumatic thing as suicide, never ever.
And it turns out his dad believes that, too.
"I know you didn't do it, Gohan," his dad had told him. "You don't need to defend yourself with me."
Gohan hadn't known what to say when his father had approached with such an opener. The truth had wanted to spill free then and there, about everything; about the forgotten suicide, about Beerus, about Quell and Rixas... Could he tell them?
Is it safe? What will happen if I do tell him?
What will he think of me?
Gohan had been annoyed his dad hadn't given him a heads up about the suicide or separation, but he has his own secrets too. Calling Dad out would be akin to being a hypocrite.
And if what Dende had said about Beerus returning turns out to be true, Gohan's best keeping his head low and his cards close to his chest. If push comes to shove, he'll tell who he needs to, maybe someone like Piccolo. Gohan feels like Piccolo would understand. He's always been level-headed, making it more of a shame that he hasn't seen him since the fight. Gohan would have loved to speak to him properly. The time will come, Gohan's sure. For now, he'll try and enjoy these moments with his family and friends, even with the bite of the suicide gnawing at the back of his mind.
Learning this titbit of information had helped things click, at least. No wonder the others had acted so awkwardly, Gohan wouldn't have known what to say either.
Not like his mother, who is now clambering back over upon noticing him.
"You are here!" she cries, "My baby, my first baby."
"Heh. Don't say that, Mum..."
"Where have you been? Where were you? Why weren't you home?" She's in his arms again, shining eyes imploring with brows knitted above. "Why—Why?"
It's a heavy sort of why. Why did he disappear? Why weren't they able to find him? Why did he kill himself?
Gohan takes her hands and folds them into his. "I died, Mum. I didn't have a choice."
"Gohan doesn't remember anything from that night," Dad adds, "But… I filled him in."
"It's true."
"Y-You don't remember?"
"No," Gohan asserts. "I promise. I just found out this morning about everything."
"So… maybe…" She turns to Dad, pallor whitening even more if possible. There's a strike of horror across her face. "Goku, you… you were right—"
Gohan tightens his grip. "I said I don't remember, not that it didn't happen."
Disturbed, Dad steps forward. "Gohan—"
"That's the truth," he asserts, laser-focussed. This is his plan and he's sticking to it. "To say for sure that it didn't happen would be lying, Dad. There's no way of knowing without further evidence. Even… if it isn't the most pleasant thing to admit, who knows what the truth is? Let's not do a disservice to that."
But he accepts no such thing. "What are you saying? Of course you didn't! I know you. You know you!"
"It doesn't matter now, right now at least. I'm here."
"Yes… Yes, you're home," Mother cements, nodding. "You're right, for now, let's… Let's just..." Her head ducks into his chest again, "My baby is home."
"Gohan, you can't—"
"Dad." Gohan watches him over his mother's messy bun. She shakes in his arms as he presses his chin against her forehead. This isn't the time for this. "Mum's sad."
His dad looks like he'd rather do anything else than drop it. His mouth opens and closes but eventually, he relents; looking sourer than Gohan's ever seen before. This topic will definitely come up again.
"Right." Dad nods. "You're right. I'm sorry."
"We know how important this is to you, Goku," Grandpa says, "But maybe we should let everything settle down a bit first, y'know, let mother and son have their moment."
"Yeah."
Behind Grandpa, Gohan catches Goten spectating everything with a fixed gaze, hands wringing around the Power Pole anxiously as though it'd quite possibly disappear should he part with. Dad's Power Pole; he'd never been allowed to play with it much as a child so it's a little surreal to see his kid brother with it, although Goten is as much a kid as Gohan is right now, he supposes with dismay.
How things have definitely changed…
Gohan leans into his mother's familiar embrace for the comfort of it. This is something he knows, at least. There's only telling what other unwelcome surprises might come his way so he may as well enjoy this.
Grandpa is thankfully dissuaded from the celebration. He does settle, however, for a grand feast in the lavish, albeit gaudy, dining room, delightfully ordering his workers on how he wants each individual dish prepared. A banquet is expected by the sounds of the clattering from the nearby kitchens. It's all the more disappointing because Gohan had been looking forward to his mum's cooking most; her braised pork cutlet bowl puts any eatery Gohan's visited to shame.
"I don't manage to get in the kitchen as much these days," she tells him, hand interlocked with his over the dining room table. "Your grandfather still doesn't trust my cooking after all these years."
"I just want you to rest, sweetie," Grandpa says, appalled by the accusation.
"She gave him food poisoning when she was a kid and he never forgot it," Dad informs, nudging at his other side, face cracked into that renowned toothy grin, "Your mum wasn't born a natural cook."
"Practice makes perfect," Mum says as if gospel. "And your father gave me a lot of practice, Goten too."
"I'm not as bad as Dad," his brother defends, yet even he looks unconvinced by his own lies.
"You're a glutton, young man."
"Now, there's something I believe." Gohan chuckles. "Don't think I don't remember that, Goten. Meal times came with a splash zone."
"Like you're any better," Goten shoots back, playful. "Clearly, it's hereditary."
Gohan turns to see the joke lost on Dad. When the god grins, his brother returns it, the cheeky thing. Oh yes, Goten is still Goten, indeed, especially now that he's finally emerging from that stubborn little shell of his.
"You know, I think I'm maybe just a little wary of your cooking, Chi-Chi, but only a little," Grandpa admits, still hung up on the earlier topic, "Your grandmother wasn't the best chef either. Oh, don't look at me like that. God rest that woman's soul; your mother was a wonderful lady but she was more dangerous with a spatula than a sword." He leans over and his voice drops to a whisper. "I think the women of the family are cursed in that regard."
"Daddy!"
Gohan laughs. "I find that hard to believe. I think Mum's the best cook imaginable. As excited I am to try the food here today, I'm more eager to try something she makes whenever and if ever she feels up to it."
Her hand shakes as much as her voice. "Gohan…"
"It's true, though."
"I second that," Dad says, raising a hand. "With her being the best cook, I mean. She, uh, doesn't have to cook for me, if she doesn't wanna'."
"Of course I'll cook for you, you dolt!"
When the food is presented it's as impressive as Gohan's ever seen here at Fire Mountain. He remembers from his youth that Grandpa can lean on the grandiose side from time to time, but this runs far beyond that as bright, colourful dishes emerge from the kitchen one after the other. Upon spotting several long forgotten rice dishes coming his way, he's struck with a sudden wave of nostalgia and finds himself eager to try at least a bit of everything.
In the Realm of the Almighty, the food is of excellent quality, always. It's sweet and ripe with flavour and enough to have Gohan look forward to every meal. The cooks there know what they're doing, and the times Gohan has snuck into the kitchens there to watch them do their work, they're happy to relay all their intricate secrets to him. They'd feed him titbits from the pantry and have him taste test everything, and Gohan would ask each of them how they found themselves working at the estate. Many have worked there long enough to have known him as Lord Mori, and thus have learnt his palette to the finest detail.
So when Gohan takes his first bite of soba, it falls from his mouth and back to the plate with an unceremonious slop.
"You don't like it?" Grandpa asks.
It's so bitter.
Gohan dabs his mouth. "It's just rich. It's… um, been a while."
"Gohan coul' barely eat on t' Lookout too," Dad says with the cheeks of an engorged hamster.
"I'm still acclimatizing."
The more sugary foods go down easier at least, and he has a much better time with the Western dishes. When Gohan takes yet another serving of frosted cake, Dad gives him a hearty slap on the back.
"I don't remember you having such a sweet tooth, Gohan."
Gohan stops, cake in hand. "I guess I'm going overboard, huh?"
"Nonsense." Mother passes over something smothered in condensed milk. "Here. Try the mantou."
The mantou is not as saccharine as he's used to back at the estate but it gets a pass. Months ago, when he'd had to cut sugar from his diet for training, the cravings had proven to be even harder to face than his withdrawal from the drugs and alcohol. Will he face similar problems here?
Either that or this body is about to grow questioningly plump.
After the meal, Gohan sneaks honey into his tea and stirs well, listening as Grandpa grows merrier on wine and starts to tell tall tales. His mum and dad are listening, occasionally disputing and correcting here and there, reminiscing about instances happening before Gohan's time. The exchange fills him with familial warmth only felt for his parents, an effect persuading him to feel much younger than his years as the conversation rises into boisterous debating. It's a feeling not unwelcome.
"What you don't know," Grandpa says for Gohan and Goten's benefit, "Is that your mother had refused to meet any other man until your dad returned from his travels. I even took her to a psychic to try and find out when he'd be returning."
Dad seems equally shocked. "R-Really?"
Sheepish, Mother bats her hand. "Nobody needs to know that, Daddy."
"Then I knew I'd have to arrange their wedding," Grandpa says, heart growing on the sleeve, voice thick. "And the rest soon became history."
"Oh. Oh, man. I didn't know about that, Chi."
"It was years ago."
"I've seen pictures of the wedding," Gohan says, smiling, "You wore Grandmother's dress, right?"
Mother squeezes his fingers. "That's right."
Goten chimes in, hand to chin. "And Dad wore white to match, I remember. He looked a little like a waiter."
"Ehhh, Goten!"
They all laugh, but none nearly as much as Mum. She wipes a happy tear from the corner of her eye as she looks over each of them, lingering on Dad the longest. Gohan catches the smile he gives her, the warmth there, the something more. It has the god smirking into his tea as he takes a sickly sip.
Goten is pleasantly perceptive. He, too, notices and looks to Gohan for confirmation.
Yes, the love is still there, little brother.
It's quite embarrassing in its own right. Gohan is a fully grown man and shouldn't dwell over his parent's relationship; nonetheless, he finds it difficult to remain level. How hadn't they survived his death? Especially since they'd survived Dad's. Mother is loyal –to a fault- and Gohan could never imagine her moving on; the same for Dad, too, to a lesser extent maybe, for he has many loves in his life. He is a saiyan, after all, marking romance as less important than it should be. Had that been a factor, too?
No.
No. He will allow them the space they deserve, for now. Tonight shouldn't be ruined with his prying. He'll ask more about it in the future but neither his mother nor father wants to dredge this up right now, understandably.
Tonight, they celebrate.
"Have you even worn a suit since then, Dad?" Gohan teases. "I can't imagine it."
"He has," Mother jumps in, bright, "Not too long ago, in fact, to Goten's parents evening a couple of years ago."
Goten looks confused, until he doesn't. "Oh, God," he laments, hands covering his face. "Oh no, oh God, not that."
"Oh, I remember that." Dad chuckles, leaning back against mahogany. "Your teacher didn't like you very much, did he?"
"No."
"That's because you kept handing in your essays late," Mum scolds, thin lipped.
Gohan places his tea down. "That's not too bad—"
"With postage stamps from across the world. He'd tell his teacher that it was always late because of the postal system."
It takes a lot for the god not to laugh, his knuckles wrack the table. "The postal system, right…"
Dad hums. "Is this the same teacher that you did a dance for?"
"An interpretive dance instead of a 3000-word paper, yes," Mother replies, clipped.
Amazing.
Gohan is struggling to keep the laughter down, thankful that Goten is still too busy swallowing his head into his hands to notice.
"And this parents evening?" Gohan dares ask.
Goten peaks his head up and then says, in a weak voice, "Let's just say it ended with Dad breaking the teacher's desk in half, setting off the sprinklers and killing the class pet fish."
Now, Gohan can't contain it. His chest heaves and he laughs hard, imagining the spectacle of his father clumsily surviving the day.
"Oh, that's not funny," he says by way of an apology, "I'm sorry about the fish."
Goten's laughing too, behind his hands. Dad joins but Mum still looks a bit cross.
As Grandpa guffaws and tries to top his mother's glass up, Gohan can't help but feel jealous that he cannot partake himself. The offer would have been nice but he understands why he didn't receive one. Dad had been offered, rejecting it with a childish gag. Gohan had to laugh, remembering that that had been his reaction too once upon a time ago.
Over the other side of the table, Goten now has his electronic device in his hands, likely a phone, although it looks bigger than Gohan remembers them being in the past. The device vibrates and he watches his brother's lips upturn as his eyes gloss over the screen, barely coherent to his surroundings.
God, his baby brother really is a teenager.
Said baby brother catches him staring. Embarrassing, Gohan supposes, but he can't help it. Goten seems to have grown up so well. He'd shown himself to be brave in the face of Beerus; a strong, sensible and collected young man. Gohan's battered pride even when watching him do the most mundane of activities; he knows that this must be a brother-complex of some kind, but he can't help it. The squirt is still absolutely adorable to him even at the age of fourteen, voice cracking and all.
"Who are you writing to?" Gohan asks him.
Goten frazzles at the question, turning rosy.
"Goodness, Goten." Mother clicks her tongue. "Put it away. Your brother just got home and you're already on that awful thing."
"Sorry…"
Gohan waves his hands. "No, don't. It's fine. I'm just curious. I barely even remember having a phone, never mind using it. The only person I would write a message to would be –oh." Oh, God. "Videl."
His cup drops. He'd… forgotten all about her.
Gohan doesn't know what to say exactly. Just what had happened to her after his suicide? How had she coped?
"Um… Actually," Goten finally says, awkward, "That's who I'm talking to right now."
"What? Really?"
"She just found out about, um… you."
Gohan slumps in his chair, unsure of how to feel about everything. There's a childish flip in his stomach that he would have put down to the wine had he had any.
"She's been a friend to the family for many years," Mum tells him. "We never lost touch."
"Same for Mr. Satan," Dad adds, "He helped recently with the Zealite stuff. Someone had needed to get the word out about magical artefacts and so—"
"Let's not discuss that at the table," his mother then interrupts testily, "Please, not tonight."
Whilst Gohan definitely wants to hear more about the artefacts, he can't bring himself to drop the topic of Videl. "After all these years, you still talk. That's amazing. I um… I… I hope she's happy."
The desired effect had not been to make his mother burst into tears.
"M-Mum!"
"Oh, there, there, Chi-Chi," Grandpa attempts to console, "There's no need to get worked up over this. There's plenty more fish in the sea for Gohan, after all."
"But not Videl," she manages through a hiccough. "And Gohan, you're so understanding, you… you…"
"Mum—"
"You were supposed to marry her!"
Gohan groans. He's back just over a day and it's back to this. He would have hoped that his death might have lessened the urge to arrange his imaginary wedding.
"C'mon, Mum. It's a bit past that, right?"
She relents, sighing but looking none the pleased about it. "I suppose it is."
Dad, oblivious, doesn't see the issue. Of course he doesn't, bless him. "What's the big deal? They could still get married, right? I mean, if that's what they want."
"Gohan's a teenager," Goten says thick and fast. "Videl doesn't like teenagers, Dad."
She'd be twenty-three and an adult in her own right. He has to wonder, did she become a police officer like she'd dreamed of? Or maybe, she'd become a martial arts instructor, or even a school teacher. Once, on one of their blistering summer hikes, she'd told him that in confidence, and he'd then told her his own dream job of becoming a veterinarian. Naturally, only one of them had the chance to achieve their ambitions in the end, not that Gohan would have been able to ever become a vet. His mother had her own ideas for him, after all.
Gohan hopes such pressures haven't fallen to Goten in his absence.
"And…"
Gohan looks up at his brother, brow raised. "And what?"
"Goten," their mother snaps, "Not right now, please."
But he doesn't listen. "Er… You still want honesty, right?"
His hand slips out of Mum's and Gohan eyes the collective of the table, cautious. "Just say it."
"Goten, please—"
"She's engaged."
Dad responds before he can. "Whaaat? She is?!"
Engaged?
Gohan blinks, once, twice, and his stomach fills with butterflies that go to die. It's not as if he'd never thought it a possibility that she'd find someone else but it still doesn't lessen the hurt, however childish he's finding his own reaction. It goes as quickly as it comes, the recovery is swift.
They'd "split" up years ago. Videl should be allowed to move on. He did… with many, many people. Had it been equally as difficult for her as it was for him? He hopes she didn't fall down similar slippery slopes. As enjoyable as sleeping around had been in its own way, there was something hollow in waking up in unknown places next to unknown people.
For Rixas, it works. For Gohan, okay, yes, it still works, too, his body is practically public property at this point, but at the time a few years back, it had been a way to survive a dark period in his life. Sex had been as much a drug to him as the plethora of dust he'd snort or fumes he'd inhale. Whilst things are different now, Gohan doesn't want a significant other. He's not that way anymore, yet, in regards to Videl, it stings, a little, if only because the memory of his sweetheart was all he had of a good relationship.
Gohan breathes out, smile returning.
She's an amazing person. Of course she found someone else.
He is truly pleased for her.
"That's wonderful," he says finally, finding himself really meaning those words "Videl deserves to be happy."
Mum is off again, sobbing into Grandpa's arm. Even he looks to be with the sniffles.
"You are too pure, Gohan," he says, wobbly with emotion (or wine). "What a good man you'll grow to be, just like your father."
Dad doesn't seem to be up to date. "She's really engaged? I had no idea! To who, not that blonde guy she's friends with, right? He doesn't seem very friendly."
Goten finally drops the phone, attention undivided as he rounds on him. "You're really okay with it, Gohan? Like, she's engaged."
"Right?"
"To another man."
"Is he nice?"
To Goten, it seems like Gohan is speaking another language, but Gohan's sure he's speaking the common tongue. It's been a while, maybe it sounds weird? Why is Goten looking at him like that?
"Like, is he a nice person?" Gohan repeats, scratching the back of his head, now somewhat anxious under his brother's scrutiny, "I'm sure he must be if Videl—"
"Why aren't you angry?"
"Eh?"
"She was your girlfriend, right? Don't you care?"
Under the spotlight, Gohan physically buckles.
Hands slap the table. "Goten Son!" Mother chides, face pink and shiny, "Have some decency! Gohan is so—" there's a hiccup, "selfless, and if he can be happy for Videl's… choice then so can we. He's proving what a good person he is by—"
Oh God. His face burns. "Mum, stop—"
"No, be quiet, Gohan. He has—"
"Mum."
She huffs. "Fine. Let me say this, at least: Videl is happy. Gohan is fine with that, and so we should be, too."
Goten doesn't look very happy, however. It's as if someone smeared something foul beneath his nose. "I guess," he says, leaving Gohan with the impression that there's more to this than said.
Tone deaf, Dad groans. "Why didn't anyone tell me she's engaged?"
"Because you don't live in the real world," Goten retorts.
Before their mother can scold him, Gohan attempts damage control. Lord knows how many times he has done it for Rixas and Quell. An awkward laugh bubbles. "Still getting up stupid early, huh, Dad? I bet you're still training like crazy, right?"
"Oh, not you, too!" Dad jokes, "Everyone thinks I go overboard."
"Well, you can calm down now that Gohan's home," Mother says, soft, "You don't need to work so hard on becoming stronger."
There's a pause. "Er, I guess. Yeah."
She takes Gohan's hand once more, thumbing his knuckles as she addresses the table. "He's home. We should focus on that, on what's here right now. Let's enjoy the time we have as a family, even with the challenges we've all faced. I just…" She levies herself like the true matriarch he remembers her to be, "want us to have each other. Even if things aren't the same, we still love and care about one another, and that's our strength."
Gohan feels his heart go soft. "Beautifully said, Mum."
Later that night, Gohan goes to bed in one of the guest rooms in the castle. It's just as impressive as the rest of the holding but Gohan finds himself let down not to be at his family home. The bed here is deluxe, soft and so like the one back at the estate that he feels cheated out of the modest dwelling he'd been expecting to stay at tonight. Upon noticing the disappointment, Dad had promised to take him there soon, yet there'd been something about Goten's tight reaction that told him to expect something unpleasant.
I feel like it's one thing after another…
At least both Goten and Trunks are proving themselves honest. Maybe brutally so, Gohan considers as he stares up at the ceiling, a wry smile present. Poor Trunks had really swallowed his foot back on the Lookout. Gohan will have to reassure him that he doesn't hate him; that the revelation had just come as a nasty shock. He's sure the kid will understand –Gohan hadn't meant to upset them; he'd just been so… so angry.
I need to do better.
Really, Gohan should have been more guarded than that, because Mori's suicidal departure from Earth rings unsurprising the more he thinks about it. How else would have Mori done it? Not with a postcard or going-away party, that's for sure. That bastard liked to tie things up in a neat bow –he'd left how he'd arrived; ruining the lives of those around him.
Gohan sighs, twisting under cotton bedding. Whilst he's trying to take responsibility for who he was before, despicable bullshit like this makes it hard.
Am I morbid to wonder how it happened? Do I ask?
He might probe Trunks in the future. The kid will spurt it out, which saves him asking Goten, a cruel act even going by Mori's standards. That and as much as he wants to question his dad, the man's has been less than honest with him; annoying considering that Gohan needs the all the pieces to craft his own picture. In the end, he understands his dad is easing him into things (oddly considerate for him) and so he'll just have to be patient - even if it means having to pretend to know nothing on the matter of death for a while longer.
And yet, what does he say down the line? It's going to become harder and harder the longer he leaves it, and inevitably, his family will feel betrayed for being left out of the loop. Will they blame Gohan for the suicide? Will they even understand? Mori and Gohan are one in the same, but also, they are not –Gohan enjoys his own identity, but he also feels the ties of the once before. How can one explain the surreal nature of it?
Most importantly, how will he leave again?
His death must have been hell for his family, and now, his revival would have cut open that wound. Gohan can't be the only one struggling to adjust. And what will happen when he needs to leave? Will that open wound fester? Will they understand? There's no place for him here, he's not mortal, not anymore. He can't even pretend, as emphasized by the wretched body he'd been crammed into. It's still as uncomfortable as the moment he'd been jam-packed into it, making him sporadically weak or dizzy. Even at the dinner table, he'd needed to take a moment to sift through unnatural fogginess, he'd barely been coherent, dazed until the moment had passed and he'd become alert once more.
There's no fix. Gohan knows as much. The body is as good as useless, and there's only one way out of it… but, killing the meat sack is not an option right now. God knows how that would affect his family a second time around.
The pillow condenses when he presses into it, and he watches the moonlight travel across the ceiling through the crack of curtains. Clouds push by as the wind sings; a typhoon is due, in more ways than one.
What a mess... At least Quell will think I'm travelling.
Even thinking of his brother makes him angry. The guy can be such a pompous asshole at the best of times but Gohan had tried –he really had, he'd tried to reach out to Quell and recruit him into the idea of a better tomorrow.
Gohan sighs. Honestly, such hopes had deserved to be thwarted, never once has Quell cared about the mortals, only about himself and his immediate connections.
How does one become so jaded, so cold? Is it because of Famis' death? Likely, he thinks, if down to the Zealite obsession, but Gohan recalls Quell's nature as aloof even before that, as well as his penchant for snobbery. All Famis' death had done is escalate that, not birth it. Perhaps Gohan is a rare one amongst the gods now. Rixas is not a bad person by any means but he has no interest in politics or achieving a revelation. Beerus outright doesn't care, and Gohan has met a few gods –none of them seem to bother with mortal affairs, either.
Is compassion subject to the mortal experience?
There's trickling at Gohan's window now. The rain has come, and he moves from his bed to watch it patter down, with it growing fiercer as the wind's song evolves into screams. Outside, the haze of rain saturates the expanse of land, the darkness stifled now more than ever.
I'm on borrowed time until Quell comes looking.
His forehead taps at the glass as he leans against his reflection. Long-forgotten dark eyes stare back, they unnerve him.
These are also borrowed.
For now, I'll enjoy the family I'd disregarded for you, Quell. I'll give them the closure Mori refused them, and then… then I'll change the universe. I'm glad we had our fight if only because it'll give me the space to truly say goodbye.
Yes, if there's one thing that confrontation had bought him, it's time. With how angry his brother had been, Gohan expects to have a good couple of months under his belt, maybe longer, and with that, he'll make everything right… he'll tell them, eventually.
Then, he'll return home and set his plans into motion. He'll try and enlist Rixas as promised and he'll make waves, regardless of Quell's selfish plights.
The typhoon doesn't dampen the household's spirits. Gohan awakes to castle workers passing by his door with a maid's trolley. As he dresses, he overhears them gossip between themselves like excited school girls.
"I'd only seen him a handful of times," Gohan hears from the hallway, "But he'd been such a polite and handsome young man. I expect he'll be a vision in the traditional Ox robes."
"You think he'll replace his brother as heir?"
"Of course, he's the oldest –and sensible if I remember correctly, unlike the king's youngest grandson. If I'm proved wrong and he chooses not to ascend, he may, at least, become a decent role model to Goten. How the boy needs it. The cheeky thing might even learn a thing or two and give us a chance at having a respectable king."
There's a giggle. "Shhh! You can't say that!"
"Come now, he could do with growing up a bit. His poor mother mustn't know what to do with him. I know I would be beside myself with frustration if he was my son."
"He's not that bad."
"Don't get me wrong. Goten is a lovely boy but he's a hoodlum."
"It's definitely that Trunks' influence."
"Tch. They're both as bad as each other—ah, ah! G-Good morning!"
The other jostles. "Eep! Good morning!"
Gohan had opened the door by this point, smiling as though butter wouldn't melt. Sunny unlike the weather, he's bright in the face of the two weak-kneed maids, making a show of considering the contents of the trolley before glancing back up at the two women with a sort of faux innocence. It's the type that drives Myra crazy.
"Umm, I'm real sorry but I was hoping for some shampoo if you had any?" he asks, sweet. "I seem not to have any in my room, or maybe I just can't find it…"
"Ah, of c-course!"
The two ladies clamber into one another reaching for it.
The dumpy one passes him a modest bottle. "H-Here you go."
He grins as though he'd just been given the key to the city. "Thank you very much. I'll make sure to tell my grandfather how loyal and helpful you both have been this morning."
The two pale, but one does manage a weak 'thank-you' before scurrying along the way, co-worker and trolley in hand.
Gohan spins the bottle in hand, shaking his head.
This is why he's never liked Fire Mountain…
By the time he manages to survive the maze of hallways previously untraversed, Gohan finds himself at the main stairwell they'd led him to last night. It's a worn, creaky thing, opposing the grand spiral staircase he has back at the estate. This one sits centre in a room fashioned to be intimidating, what with its dark, bold colours and garish furniture. Gohan examines an armour-set, running a finger over the bronze finish. This thing has never seen battle. It's just here for face-value.
God, Grandpa has awful taste.
"Trunks climbed into that one last year."
Gohan turns to see his brother, watching.
He smiles, cocking a head. "Oh, yeah?"
"Yep. He chased one of the butlers, pretending it to be haunted and demanding penance."
"I bet Mum loved that."
Goten laughs. "The butler quit after, and Mum made Trunks write a letter of apology for making a 63 year old man, um, dirty his underwear, let's say."
The hand slips from the armour plate and he regards the not-so-little squirt. He really doesn't resemble Dad as much anymore; now being very much his own person, especially with a mischief-laden expression such as this; wide-eyed, dimpled cheeks and a smile that tells you not to trust him to behave for longer than an hour.
"You're staring at me again," Goten informs, lips dipping. Ironic, because Gohan can't help but think the same thing about him.
Regardless, he positively coos. The pat on the head is not welcome but Gohan really can't help himself. "Of course I am. You're super cute! Oh, wow, your hair is kinda' long. "
"I-I'm not cute!" Goten manages, pulling free, "Gohan! Just because you're a giant, it doesn't make me a baby. We're nearly the same age now!"
"You're right. I'm sorry." He's not. Goten is too cute. "Can I still hug you?"
"W-Well, yes. I mean, in public, it might be a bit much—"
Fist to palm, Gohan nods. "Got it. You're trying to be cool, right? Teenagers don't hug. I remember."
Goten blanches and Gohan feeds off of the reaction, enjoying himself as his brother's cheeks grow into rosy apples. Goten's second-hand embarrassment for him makes Gohan want to tease him all day long, but alas, he has somewhere he needs to be.
"I'm going to go see Piccolo," he says, "You want to come?"
The teenager sobers. "Um, no, I'm okay, thanks."
Okay. Another red flag.
"He still scare you?"
"No," Goten snaps back, fast, and then softer; "I… um, I'd rather let you guys catch up alone. You were close in the past, weren't you? I don't wanna'…" Downcast, he scratches the nape of his neck. "Besides, I should probably tell Mum and Dad where you went when they wake up."
"They're still asleep?"
"In the living room. I saw them just before. I think they were up all night."
I wonder what happened with their break-up. Will Goten know anything?
"Right. Hey, Goten… About Mum and Dad…" Those wide eyes look up, concerned, and Gohan's words shrivel on the end of his tongue instantly, dying a quick death. This isn't something he should be prying into, he keeps telling himself. "It doesn't matter. Um, you sure you don't want to come?"
Goten nods, unenergetic, contemplative. "You're gonna' come back here after, though, right?"
"Yeah, 'course. What makes you think I won't?"
There's a reluctant shrug. "Just… I dunno'. I'll be around when you get back, okay?"
Goten's face had been a mask of unfiltered anxiety; something Gohan can't get out of his mind as he soars along and through the clouds. His brother seems to flip on a switch. One moment, he's fine and then the next, he isn't, likely due to Gohan's sudden return. In time, his brother will adapt and learn to cope with the changes; he and the others will heal when Gohan explains things through, allowing them not to have to exist with the mysteries of why Gohan had done what he'd done.
For now, he puts it out of his mind. He wants to enjoy the flight. The meat sack body has mellowed out after another night's sleep and so he's able to ride the wind comfortably. Flying in the Realm of the Almighty isn't commonplace. In fact, Gohan can't recall the last time he'd done it. It's seen as uncouth at best and offensive at worse, even in his position, and so he and Rixas would only do it on the estate grounds, usually when training, but even then, the chances are few and far between.
However, today, taking to the skies had felt right. Coursing over the ripe foliage, even in the early stage of a typhoon, feels as natural as walking. The rain spits lovingly, slowly soaking him and bleeding his clothes sodden. Luckily, back at Fire Mountain, Goten had been quick to offer to lend him a jacket before the journey, only to burst out laughing when the thing hadn't been able to sit bellow Gohan's bellybutton.
"I think it's a bit small, Goten…" he'd said.
"That's my biggest one. Borrow mine or Grandpa's, if wearing a tent is your thing."
Gohan looks ridiculous, he knows, wearing a bright orange jacket as a crop top –God, what would Rixas say if he could see him? At least he has the materialized gi made for him by Piccolo underneath, because Gohan doubts anything Goten owns would fit him if the jacket is anything to go by.
Finally, the route comes to an end when Gohan spots a clearing in the forest below. It's amazing that Gohan's still able to formulate the way after so many years. He lands at the waterfall, its beastly hushing more pronounced in such weather, lashing out as Gohan makes his way to the cave just south of it. Gohan knows that that's where Piccolo will be if he's around here.
He can't sense the namekian's ki but that's hardly unusual for him as one of the most cautious people Gohan's ever had the pleasure of knowing. He'd just visited the Lookout to be told that he's not there, so in this game of hide-and-seek; Gohan must use wits as opposed to ki-sensing ability.
"Piccolo?" he calls as he enters the cave. "You here?"
The dripping of water calls back, but nothing else.
Quite possibly, Piccolo could be taking advantage of the weather and using it to further his training; Gohan remembers him doing that. But wouldn't Piccolo want to see him? Gohan's surprised that he hasn't made time to talk with him yet; he's been back nearly two days now.
As he sits on a nearby boulder, sopping from the rain, he tries not to dwell on it. Piccolo will turn up eventually. His dad had said last night that he still comes here a lot. He spikes his ki just to let it be known that he's here.
The typhoon soon starts to pick up and seconds trickle into minutes, and minutes into what must be hours. For a while, he doesn't mind. The rainfall is oddly therapeutic and Gohan actually enjoys the downtime. He sits and thinks about the events of the past couple of days, mulls over the white lies he'll have to tell, and relaxes in the atmosphere of a rainy day. But over time, his mood starts to shift the longer he's alone. His chest grows heavy with budding disappointment.
When the first grouse of thunder sounds, Gohan decides that Piccolo likely isn't coming. After the fifth or sixth, it solidifies.
Don't you want to see me? I know you can sense me here…
And when his dad turns up, Gohan's accepts the truth of it.
"I brought you a jacket," is the first thing he says to Gohan, smiling as he offers the familiar article of clothing. "It's yours. I kept it safe."
The god returns the smile, hollow. "Thanks."
"We can go back to the house, if you want?"
"Sure."
Dad takes the position next to him on the boulder. "The family house, I mean, not Fire Mountain. Though, we can go there, too. What do you wanna' do?"
Gohan doesn't beat around the bush. "Is Piccolo avoiding me?"
"A-Avoiding?"
Ah, that's a yes.
Dad doesn't answer, probably because he doesn't know how. Back during the fight with Beerus, Gohan had been with Piccolo most of the time and it'd felt fine. For what reason would he avoid Gohan now? It's not like Gohan would run and jump into his arms, he's not that socially stunted.
"Don't worry about it," Gohan next grumbles, wanting to disarm the burgeoning tension, "It must be my imagination."
"Ha-ha, yeah, I think you're overthinking things. Piccolo's a busy guy."
His dad is such a terrible liar but Gohan doesn't have it within him to fight him on this, not yet. He sighs, contemplating the complicity of it all. Shouldn't Piccolo be happy that Gohan's back? He's practically family after all these years…
A hand pulls him in by the shoulder and Gohan finds himself resting against his dad. It's already hot from the humidity, but he can't bring himself to move away from his father's searing hold, enjoying the closeness now that he's feeling oddly lonely without his ex-mentor.
"Things are a bit different, huh?" Dad says.
"I guess, yeah."
"But you've got me and your mum, and Goten, too. And then there's your grandpa."
No Piccolo?
Gohan eyes the mossy ground. That's Dad's roundabout way of not saying what needs to be said; Piccolo isn't interested. Why, though –because of the suicide? Does he begrudge that?
"Krillin is gonna' flip when he sees you," Dad goes on to say, "And man, you've gotta' see Marron now. She's huge! She looks just like her mum, too. Uncle Seventeen gets real protective."
Why was I so naïve to think things were going to be the same? I knew they'd move on –but I didn't think Piccolo would just…
Gohan swallows a sigh, he leans against his dad as the man talks on and on about the old gang. Old gang, what does that even mean? For Gohan, not a lot, because they're his father's friends, really. Piccolo had been Gohan's friendforemost, and then his dad's –that's how it'd always felt to him, anyway. But now?
I didn't think you'd let me down, Piccolo…
"Bulma already called, y'know. She says that you've gotta' go over there or she'll come hunting for you. Ha-ha, I wouldn't wanna' cross Bulma Briefs! Maybe we can head over there toni—"
Suddenly, Gohan finds he can't stomach it here any longer. "Dad, can we go home?"
He jumps. "Ah? Ah! Sure! Yes! To Fire Mount—"
"No, I want to go home."
The rumble of thunder sounds at the exact moment Gohan opens the door to the Son house. If the overgrown weeds outside were anything to go by, he shouldn't be surprised, yet he is. He flicks the lights on just to make sure that he's seeing correctly –the day is dark, after all.
"Sorry, it's a bit of a mess," Dad apologizes. "I've been kinda' busy."
Kind of… busy…
The place is disgusting. Gohan knows his dad can be gross sometimes, especially after their time together in the Room of Spirit and Time, but this is ridiculous.
Soiled bandages trail across the floor in their own sprint, running along muddy wooden panels all away to the stairs. There's a door hanging over them, off its hinges, resting against towers of bottled drinks and creating an archway to a trail of clothes leading both south and north. Around, there are blood smears, dirt and other questionable stains all along the walls, an effect that has Gohan rubbing his hands together, daring not to touch anything, tempting them into the jacket pockets.
As he proceeds, there's a crunch under foot.
His voice raises high, he dares not look down. "Oh, God, that better not be a rat."
"It's just some bones. Don't worry about it."
"What?!"
There's a nervous laugh. "Fish bones. Sorry, erm, from the other day. I had fish and I didn't…"
"Dad…"
"It's pretty bad, huh?"
Gohan can't even sugar-coat this. "Yes, it's really bad. How did you let it get like this? Does Mum know?"
"Err…"
"Goten stays here, doesn't he?"
"Not as much as he used to."
And now you know why.
Gohan steps over something unidentifiable as makes his way into the kitchen, the pinnacle of the chaos. The smell hits before he's able to take it all in, not that he wants to stand here examining it all. Cluttered trash now inhabits the tables, quite possibly forming something sentient if the shape of it is anything to go by.
The god whistles, low as he spots another tower of those drinks.
"What are these?"
"Oh, Bulma sent them over a while back. They're meal supplements. She knows how much I hate cooking so she sent me these. I think she was worried about me not eating enough."
Gohan takes a bottle, reading it aloud. "Capsule Corporation Nourishment Beverage."
"They're not bad, y'know!"
"I'll take your word for it." He puts the bottle back and sighs, scratching the back of his head. "I'll cook while I'm here, I guess. I don't mind. But, first…"
Gohan eyes his surroundings, already tired of a job not started. This is why Goten had given him a funny look earlier about coming here; the place is a sty.
Dad at least sounds ashamed. "A cleaner helps sometimes, but, erm… I've not had one in a while. I think they get annoyed with me, heh-heh."
"We'll get it sorted out," Gohan says, attempting positivity. Thunder growls behind in disapproval but he's determined, even if it means touching rotten… mouldy… Oh, god. Gohan is going to hate this. He shudders. This is going to be like when he had to clean all of Mori's things when he first came back to the estate, except on hard-mode. "I'm gonna' get changed first though –I mean, if you still have my things?"
"Of course, I do! I knew you'd be coming back –your room is pretty much how you left it. I haven't even touched your desk." Dad jumps over the untidiness with the grace of a well-practice deer. "Do you want to take a shower first? You're all wet."
The slime on the cooker stares at him. "Uh, I'll want a shower after."
When Gohan goes to his room, he's relieved to see it filth-free, and really exactly how he'd remembered it. As a teenager, Gohan had always maintained a tidy space, a habit derived from his mother –a habit he wishes Dad would have picked up, too, if to save Gohan the grand effort of clearing the house. Because of this, there isn't too much to explore. His bed is made, the desk is neat and his bookshelf is in its consistent state of organization.
Wow, it's… like going back in time.
He does scour through some of the books on his bookshelf, tracing the words along the paper, nostalgic for a language not read in years. Most of them are academic books, much like the ones back in his library at the estate, so he doesn't linger on them too long, choosing to instead peruse the odd fictions he has atop the shelf.
Mori hated fictions but Gohan didn't –doesn't. Collecting an old favourite, he admires the bright colours of the cover. This particular book is about an adventurer fighting against an oppressive pirate. The character had been hoping to carve out his own path and learn something about himself; a typical hero's journey. In the end, Gohan remembers the adventurer winning the final swordfight, the girl and the respect and adoration of those around him. It's a simple tale of good verse evil, and how good triumphs always.
If only it was that simple.
The book shuts and he slots it back onto the shelf.
Such tales are steeped in bullshit expectations of how people are to act. Evil isn't a force, but a disease that has people act in the foulest manner, and any and all are capable of it, even the purest of souls like him, Goten or Dad. Gohan knows that many will think him evil for what he wants to achieve with ki eradication, yet such perception doesn't matter to him now; he'll save them even if they hate him.
Even you, Dad… I know you aren't going to be happy with it.
The roundabout thought has him think of Quell once again, and the fire returns.
I'll fight both of you on this, Rixas too should it come to it.
And Gohan will fight the Zealites, and Zamasu, and every god damn kai if he needs to. The revelation will be had!
There's more claps of thunder outside. It simmers him, somewhat, just enough for him to notice a familiar hat right at the back of the bookshelf. It's red and yellow with a space at the top for a dragon ball to sit.
The four-star is gone.
All of the dragon balls are gone.
Yet, I can't bring myself to be mad. If someone is targeting the relics, then they are just continuing the work of the old gods. I don't resent that. In fact, if it wasn't the Zealites who had achieved such a feat, I'd commend them.
One power imbalance at a time will disappear and the universe shall balance a little more comfortably.
The hat twists in his grasp.
You'll all be safer.
I'll protect all of you, in the way that I can.
Gohan drops the hat onto his bed, staring at it, never having realised how small it is, or rather, how big he is now, how much he's grown.
I'm not scared of change, and I'll show that here on Earth. I'll be with them for a short time, I'll help them move on; I'll help them change.
So Gohan puts on fresh, albeit dusty, clothes and heads downstairs, sweeping brush at the ready.
It's time to clean up.
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In regards to this chapter, it was nice to have Goten acting a bit happier than usual. As Kags said: "It's been 84 years, but Goten finally laughed again." LOL
And once again, thanks for the beta-ing! You've saved my booty once more. We have many more to go, however!
This one is very much a downtime chapter, a reflection really, ironic seeing as I've not had much time for any! I'm back at work and surviving the aches and pains of not being used to it whilst also being personally victimized by nine year-olds. Kids, man…
As I've been really busy, I just want to say that I'm sorry on not replying to PMs and reviews as much as I normally would. Honestly, it's been mental and (I'm trash) it's been difficult to sit down and organize myself. But I am super appreciative of any and all feedback I get. Thank you for all reviews, PMs, favs and follows. They mean a bomb! I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you on the next chapter.
